Plantagenet
by HiBob
Summary: Harry found the boy by falling on him. He remembers the blood. Professor McGonagall recognized the boy, even with Harry next to him. His presence would change the future more than anyone could imagine. A completed story.
1. Arrival

The Traveler Stone: PLANTAGENET

This story is authored by HiBob. The principle characters and settings are the creation and property of JK Rowling and, to a lesser degree, Randall Garrett

Prologue

She was known only as the Gypsy. That was one of the two things about her that anyone needed to know. The other thing was that she was in charge. If she gave a command, it was followed. If she was happy, then everyone else was happy. And now she was angry.

"You call yourself a Master Sorcerer?" she barked at the plump man sitting at the small square table. She paced the floor then paused to look out of the window. The view from the second story room of the warehouse was dismal at the best of times. Once the sun rose, the grey rain would at least obscure the wall of the adjacent warehouse.

The Sorcerer smiled insincerely. "The spell I have placed on the boy is working. The boy remembers nothing of his past beyond this last week. Soon, he will remember nothing at all. Then we can manipulate him to our own ends."

"You promised me five days. It has been two weeks."

"The boy's will is strong, and although his talent is small it is more developed than I expected. But he will succumb in another day or two."

"We do not have another day or two. The Armsmen are getting closer. They know we are near and it is only a matter of time." The Gypsy spoke with practiced control over her emotions. "The matter must be resolved."

"But the boy . . ."

"The boy is useless unless you can control him now."

The Sorcerer grew nervous but held his ground. "You are getting what you paid for. If you want the boy's mind in one piece, you have to wait."

"I cannot wait. My friends would give me all the time in the world but my enemies will not."

The Gypsy reached under her robes for the revolver, a six shot MacGregor, and checked the chambers to make sure they were filled. As she returned it to its hiding spot, she brushed her free hand against her side as she was want to do, and paused as she noticed the absence of a familiar bulge. She felt the belt beneath her robe and realized that the pouch she carried was empty.

"It is gone," the Gypsy cursed, and glared at the Sorcerer. Her eyes shifted to the bolted door behind the Sorcerer.

The Sorcerer followed her gaze, and swallowed. "Impossible. The boy does not have the courage. He was begging you for mercy when last you talked with him."

The last vestige of respect for the Sorcerer fled from the Gypsy. "Is he a beggar? Or is he a pickpocket? He may not remember much, but he has lost none of his skill."

The Gypsy walked across the room with determination, the revolver out and firmly in her hand. "This ends now."

"My Lady," the Sorcerer said as he rose to his feet. "I promise you. One more day." He smiled his most ingratiating smile. He was still smiling when the bullet entered his head.

The Gypsy unbolted the door and threw it open. In front of her no more than five feet away was the boy, filthy from the lack of clean water, his clothes nothing more than rags. He no longer noticed the iron necklace he wore, even as its edges still managed to cut into his skin. He stood there defiant and, curiously, with empty hands.

"Where is it?"

The boy said nothing but his eyes, weak as they were, were fixed on the revolver. He was clearly frightened but he was also determined. Even after all he had been through, he made it clear he would never beg. He would never beg and mean it. Even if it meant his life. The Gypsy shouted the question again, then decided on a new course of action. She aimed the revolver at the boy's stomach.

"You will die slowly, little brat, and I will find my jewel if I have to flay your corpse to do it." She pulled the trigger and the bullet exited the gun barrel.

In one second, all these things occurred. The bullet entered the boy and, as it was designed to do, exploded before it could exit his body. His back now had a hole in it that a man could stick his fist into. The boy jerked back on the chain as his body was struck. The iron collar forced the boy's head to stop, and the boy proceeded to drop to the floor as he lost control of his feet. His mouth opened, and the Gypsy smiled as she could see her jewel, caught in the boy's throat. Then he did the unexpected. As he fell, the boy faded from sight. At the end of that one second, the chain and the empty collar landed on the floor.

PART I: ARRIVAL

Chapter One: The Stranger

Harry smiled as politely as he could at Colin Creevey as he gave back the picture of himself and Lockhart and explained that he was going to Quidditch practice. The first year had decided that Harry was the greatest person in the world and did everything to be close to him. Now, in this early dawn hour, Colin was waiting for him as Harry went to his first Quidditch practice of the year. "Oh wow! Wait for me" Colin said as he followed Harry out of the common room. "I've never . . ."

Colin stopped in his tracks as he saw Harry trip. Harry fell forward but he landed on a body. Rolling off, he saw he was lying next to a boy his own age. He also saw something else. Blood. And a gaping wound. A flash of light caught his eyes and he looked up. Colin had taken a picture.

Harry started to say something but he saw Colin's face. Colin was frightened. Taking the picture had been a reflex action. Then Harry heard someone calling his name. It was the Fat Lady in the portrait that covered the entrance.

"I'm sorry. What?" Harry asked.

"I've summoned help," the Fat Lady said, relieved that she was getting a reaction. "How is he?"

"I don't know," Harry said as he put a bloody hand on the boy's back, well above the wound. "He's still breathing, I think."

"MOVE," Argus Filch yelled as he suddenly appeared in Harry's view. Ignoring the blood and filth, the caretaker picked up the boy as carefully as he could and began running with him to Madam Pomfrey. Harry watched him as he ran past a stunned Professor McGonagall.

A moment later, McGonagall shook off her surprise and cast a spell with her wand. The house elves would soon be there to clean everything. Then she approached the two boys. "Harry, Colin, come with me, please." Harry nodded and stood up. He looked at Colin, who was shaking, and went to help. When Colin backed away, Harry looked surprised, then noticed his Quidditch robes stained with the boy's blood. Realizing what he must look like, he stepped back from Colin, to give him some room.

"We'll have you cleaned and with a change of clothes in the infirmary, Mister Potter," McGonagall assured him. Then she turned and said softly, "Colin?" She held out her hand and he took it, and followed her as she led the way.

* * *

Harry returned to the infirmary after using the bath in the teachers lounge. He was now in clean clothes and curious about what he would find, but Madam Pomfrey was busy behind a screen and nothing could be seen of the strange boy.

Colin, sitting on one of the beds, looked up when he saw Harry and smiled, but it was different from his usual smiles. This was a smile that said he was happy to see a familiar face. Harry gave him a lopsided grin in return. In this brief instant, both shared the same feeling, relief. Something terrible has happened but, hopefully, it would soon pass.

"You look better," Colin said,

"I had a chance to look in a mirror. I scared myself. I'm glad this doesn't happen every day." Harry gave a nervous laugh, and Colin grinned.

"I have to admit. This isn't what I expected to find at a school of magic."

"And you shouldn't, Mister Creevey," Albus Dumbledore said as he entered. "Our guest has caused quite a few questions to be asked and very few to be answered. I have talked with the adults involved, and now I would like to ask the two of you some of these questions."

"I can't tell you much, Sir," Harry offered. "I was talking to Colin when I tripped over the boy. The next thing I knew, Mister Filch was there, and Professor McGonagall told us to follow her."

Dumbledore nodded slowly, while Harry dared to ask a question. "Sir, who is he?"

"That, Harry, is one of the questions we don't have an answer to, yet."

"Then he's not a student?"

"Apparently not."

"Then how did he get here?"

Dumbledore smiled kindly. "That is another question we don't know the answer to. However, if Madam Pomfrey is as skilled as I believe her to be, our guest will give us the answers in a short while. Perhaps you and Mister Creevey should get some breakfast?"

"Sir, I should be at Quidditch practice . . ."

Dumbledore nodded. "Apparently Professor Snape forgot to inform your team captain. The Slytherin team has use of the pitch today to train their new seeker. You did not miss practice."

"New seeker?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "You are full of questions today, Mister Potter, but at least I can answer some of them. Yes, a new seeker. They've chosen Draco Malfoy for that position. Now, off to breakfast, the two of you."

As they left the infirmary, Colin looked up at Harry. "Malfoy? Is he one of the bad ones?"

"As bad as you can get," Harry said. "I'll bet you anything he bought his way onto the team. Higgs, their old seeker, wouldn't just quit."

* * *

"They did not notice," Albus Dumbledore assured Madam Pomfrey.

"Minerva did. I wouldn't have if she hadn't pointed it out." Pomfrey nodded to Professor McGonagall.

"Albus, I should tell you that when I spotted the boy I froze. If it weren't for Argus Filch . . ." McGonagall explained. "I recognized the boy immediately, even with only a glimpse of his face. And with Potter kneeling on the floor next to him, he was the last person I expected to see."

Dumbledore nodded. "I'm sure everything will be fine as far as the boy is concerned."

Pomfrey frowned. "He'll live, if that is what you mean. But he will be sleeping for most of the week. And I have St. Mungo's sending someone to check on him. A specialist. The boy needs to regrow a kidney for one thing"

"He was hurt that badly?" Albus asked.

"It was worse than you could imagine." Poppy sighed. "I'm not even sure I know the entire story. I need to try a few spells and see what the results are." She took a deep breath. "I would like to talk to you after the doctor visits tomorrow."

"I think we can afford to wait," Albus said with more assurance than he felt. "I will use the time to talk to old friends."

* * *

Harry went back to his bed rather than eat a breakfast he wouldn't enjoy and surprised himself by sleeping through the rest of the morning. Fred and George were there when he awoke suddenly. "What happened?"

"We woke you up," Fred answered with a wide grin. "What did you think happened?"

Harry frowned. "Why did you wake me up?"

"To eat," George said matter-of-factly. "It's time for lunch, and we have a few dozen questions for you."

"Yeah," Fred added. "And the next time you find a body, tell us first. Now get up, unless you're not hungry?"

"I'm starving," Harry said in surprise. "I was too nervous to eat any breakfast."

"You're better off than Ron," George said, then laughed. "I better not tell you or it'll ruin your appetite."

"You know you're going to tell me anyway," Harry laughed as he climbed out of bed, his clothes terribly wrinkled.

"I should try that," Fred commented. "I could sleep another ten minutes every morning." He laughed at his own joke then added, "You know about Ron's wand, don't you?"

"I was there when he broke it," Harry acknowledged.

"Then you understand why he started spitting up slugs after he tried to curse Malfoy."

"Ughh. I'm glad you told me before I ate anything. Why did he try to curse Malfoy?"

Fred and George looked at each other. "Malfoy, um, called Hermione a name. Mudblood."

"I've never heard that word before."

"It means bad blood, dirty blood. Muggle blood. It's the worst thing he could have called her." Fred smiled, then added, "Hermione managed to get under his skin, that was great."

By this time all three were on their way to the Great Hall, and Harry started laughing. "What did Hermione say?"

"Harry," George explained, "It's not that simple. First of all, Wood bored us for over an hour with his charts."

"Then the Slytherin team showed up to train their new seeker," Fred continued, "They had permission from Snape and brand new Nimbus Two Thousand and One's."

"Dumbledore told me about Malfoy," Harry sneered. "I told Colin he probably bought his way onto the team."

"That's exactly what Hermione accused him of," George said.

"Then she added that the Gryffindors got their places by talent," Fred continued.

Harry laughed with the twins. "That's why Malfoy was mad. I'll have to thank Hermione for that. How is Ron doing?"

"He hadn't coughed up a slug in almost a half hour, the last I saw of him."

Fred and George deposited Harry in a seat across from Ron and Hermione and went to join their friends. Harry smiled but Ron still moped.

"Are you feeling better? Fred and George told me what happened."

"Almost, but McGonagall came by just before you got here, Harry. I have detention with Filch, in the trophy room."

"Did she say anything about me?" Harry asked nervously, pausing as he filled his plate.

"That's why Ron's sulking," Hermione answered, wearing a frown of her own. "Because of extenuating circumstances you are excused from your punishment."

"Extenuating circumstances."

"Tripping over a body," Hermione reminded him. "Colin Creevey told me, and everyone else, about it."

"And why are you upset? Is it what Malfoy said?"

"You know what Malfoy's like, Harry?"

"Sticks and stones, Hermione. Anyone in Gryffindor is more than a match for Malfoy, and we all stand together. He'll get his."

Hermione smiled. "Thanks, Harry. The words still hurt but hearing you say that does help." She blushed slightly. "Of course, Ron told me the same thing. And Hagrid."

"And Fred and George," Ron added. Suddenly his eyes bulged, and he got up and ran out of the Great Hall.

"I hope he makes it," Hermione said, "It hasn't been a good day for him."

"For any of us," Harry said as he finished his second helping and reached for more juice. "At least I feel normal, now."

Suddenly, a ripple of silence spread over the hall. Near the entrance, voices could be heard. Harry and Hermione looked up to see Colin Creevey running into the Great Hall, camera in hand, and racing past the Gryffindor table, Malfoy and his friends in hot pursuit. Colin passed Harry who suddenly stood up and blocked Malfoy's path.

Malfoy stopped and looked Harry in the eye. He then looked over Harry's shoulder and shrugged. He turned around and motioned for Crabbe and Goyle to follow him. As they left, Harry turned around to see Fred and George right behind him, Oliver Wood and Lee Jordan as well as a half dozen other Gryffindors were there as well. "You see, Hermione," Harry reminded her, "we do stand together. And nobody had to ask."

Harry sat back down and found Colin sitting next to him. "What did you do?"

"I didn't mean to bother you, Harry."

"Colin, you didn't bother me, but you did give me a chance to stand up to Malfoy. I only want to know why."

"And he isn't the only one," Lee Jordan said as he sat on the other side of the first year, while Fred and George made it a point to stand behind him.

"Malfoy wanted to see my camera," Colin explained. "He grabbed for it and I took his picture."

Fred laughed. "You took his picture?"

Colin nodded with a slight smile. "At close range, with a flash, while he had his eyes open."

Everyone who heard started laughing. Hermione pointed out that Malfoy was scowling, and everyone laughed again. Lee Jordan slapped Colin on the back.

"That was good thinking. You blinded him, then you ran."

"Um, no," Colin said, his smile gone. "I kicked him first."

* * *

Harry sat in front of the fireplace, waiting for Ron. He had slept too much during the day to feel tired yet. As he watched the flames dance, he heard a noise. Turning he saw Colin Creevey, dressed in his pajamas, enter the common room. Colin saw him and stopped. Harry waved him over, and Colin came reluctantly.

"What happened, Colin? You looked almost afraid when you saw me."

"I didn't want to bother you."

"Since when?" Harry laughed, then saw Colin's serious look. "Since this morning, right?"

"I don't want to bother you anymore. I won't try to make myself your friend."

"You're not bothering me. Now tell me why you're still up."

"I had a bad dream. About that boy. It was strange, Harry. In my dream he had your face."

"It was only a dream, Colin. Why don't you sit here for a while? I always find it relaxing, watching the flames."

"You're not mad at me? For the way I was bothering you this morning."

"At the time I was, but now I'm glad. Something happened, and there is someone I can talk to about it. I guess you should be glad too. You had that dream, and you found someone to talk to as well. We're both lucky."

Colin snorted. "You make it sound as though we're actually friends."

"We are," Harry said thoughtfully. "I'm not sure when it happened, but we became friends somewhere today. Do you see, Colin, you've been walking around trying to be Colin Creevey, good friend of Harry Potter, but that could never happen. That isn't friendship."

"I don't feel like I'm a friend," Colin admitted.

"You're worried about how I feel and what I think of you." Colin nodded. "Well, somewhere along the way, between taking that boy's picture and taking Malfoy's picture, you stopped thinking about me the way you used to. That's why we're friends. We're nobody special to each other anymore, just Harry and Colin, sitting on the couch, hoping we can get to sleep sometime tonight."

Colin nodded his head. Harry was right about him. He wasn't proud to be sitting next to the Famous Harry Potter. He was comfortable, though, and happy to have someone he could talk to. He had a friend.

"Did you hear that?" Harry asked as he sat up.

"Hear what?"

"I thought I heard something. It seemed so clear."

"What did it say?"

"It said to come, so it could kill me. It sounded cold and . . . evil."

Both boys listened for a while but neither of them heard anything else. Finally Harry said it was probably his imagination and they sat back to watch the flames again. Colin had to admit that he felt good because now he had a friend at school. "He's weird. He hears voices and stuff. But he is a friend."

When Harry stopped laughing, he asked, "I'm curious, Colin. Where did you kick Malfoy?"

"In the hallway near the Charms classroom," Colin answered with a straight face.


	2. Brothers

Chapter Two: Brothers

He was in his thirties but gray was already visible in his hair. To look at him, one would almost think he was looking at a beggar. His robes were old and frayed, and had been patched on numerous occasions. He lived in a place that was not much better than his clothes. It was one room and sparsely furnished. An old bed, but still sturdy. A small table with two small chairs, although both were rarely used at the same time.

Out of place stood a bookcase, the only other piece of furniture, unless you counted the dozens of books that filled the shelves. The old/young man sat in one of the chairs, reading one of these tomes as he often did. Every now and then he would lift his cup and take a sip of his tea. It was during one of these times that a knock was heard at his door.

"Come in," he called easily, marking his place in his book, and was immediately on his feet to greet his guest once he saw who it was.

"Albus? This is a wonderful surprise. I haven't seen you for years. Would you like some tea?"

"Thank you, Remus," the headmaster said gratefully and sat down in the other chair while Remus Lupin conjured a cup for him. He took a sip. "This is wonderful. Thank you."

Remus smiled in gratitude and held his smile as he asked his question. "I do appreciate your company, Albus, but I've known you too long as a teacher and a friend. Why are you here? And this close to a full moon?"

Albus smiled. "Doctor Pantely is at Hogwarts. He wanted me to send his regrets that he could not make his regular meeting with you."

Remus continued to smile. "I'm helpful to Xavier Pantely in his research and he is the main reason I can afford such lavish surroundings." Both men grinned at the irony.

Albus held out a bottle, big enough to hold a standard cupful. "Xavier also asked me to give you this. It is his latest potion. You said that the last potion eased the pain of transformation. He hopes that this one will be more helpful."

Remus nodded gratefully. "His potions have been a wonder. For over a year I have not had to fear the full moon except for myself. It is a blessing knowing that others are safe from me."

"A noble thought," Albus admitted, "but we both know that Dr. Pantely is searching for more than that. I do hope to see a cure in my lifetime, and that means soon."

"I've seen the results," Remus said sadly. "He is having success but I fear you will have to live a long time before there is a cure. He has examined my curse many times and admits that he is faced with a puzzle." Remus paused. "Why is he at Hogwarts?"

"Because he has been given another puzzle to solve. And to answer your first question, which is also why I am here. I may need your help."

"I will do anything I can," Remus told Dumbledore. "What do you want from me?"

"I would like to offer you a job, at Hogwarts. Assistant Groundskeeper. I have no authority to pay you but I can offer you room and board for the present."

"Why?" came the question. The one word expressed all the confusion that the young man felt.

"It concerns Harry Potter."

"He's at Hogwarts? Has it been that long?"

Albus smiled. "He is in his second year. He is in Gryffindor, by the way."

Remus smiled but sadness filled his face. "James would have been proud."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "He is also on the Quidditch team."

Remus laughed. "James would have cheered."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "We have a problem at the school. It seems that Harry was on his way to his first practice of the year when he tripped over a body. It was a boy, the same age, and barely alive."

"From the way you say that, you think I know this boy."

"I know you do, Remus. The boy he tripped over is Harry Potter." Albus saw the surprise on the other man's face and kept talking. "He doesn't have the scar he was given the night his parents died, but every spell we cast tells us that he is exactly Harry's age and that James and Lily were his parents."

"But that would be impossible. There were enough of us there trying to keep James calm or helping Lily. One of us would have noticed if Harry had a twin."

"He isn't Harry's twin," Albus pointed out. "According to our school physician, Madam Pomfrey, the boy is exactly the same age. If he were a twin, the spells would have shown him to be two minutes older or three minutes younger. Poppy says it's a matter of logistics."

Remus smiled thinly at the remark, but quickly returned to the subject. "Do you know how this happened?"

Albus shook his head. "We have no idea. All we know is that the boy is a jumble of contradictions. He was found barefoot and dressed in rags, with his hair cut short without regard to any sort of style. He had blisters on his feet, and his neck was scarred from an iron collar. We know this because Poppy found slivers of iron embedded in the boy's neck Minerva described him as the perfect example of a beggar boy from the previous century. Even down to the bruises from frequent, and recent, beatings."

Remus listened carefully, drawing the obvious conclusions. Barefoot but blistered meant that the boy had, until recently, worn shoes. A metal collar meant that he was clearly being held captive, perhaps as a hostage. The beatings were obviously done to break his will. He looked up at the headmaster.

"Why did you need to see Dr. Pantely?"

"The boy also has a curse placed on him. As you well know, Dr. Pantely's specialty is examining curses to find a means to end them."

Remus nodded. "Such as the curse of the Werewolf."

"And the curse of the second Harry Potter. Pantely also spoke of contradictions. It seems that the spell on the boy is not very powerful, but it has been carefully woven into the boy. If any of the usual attempts are made to remove it, it will remove all of the boy's memories. He will become an empty shell. And the nature of the curse, according to our expert, is to suppress those memories. That is why I need your help. We don't know for certain what the boy's condition will be when he wakes up, but we think he will display the same symptoms as a victim of amnesia. He will probably know how to speak and write, assuming he learned, but he will know nothing of himself or his family."

"And why do you want me there, at Hogwarts?"

Albus smiled. "You are the excuse for Doctor Pantely to visit the school on a regular basis. The spell may not be strong but it was well crafted, unlike anything I have ever come across. It is also weakening, although at an amazingly slow rate. If we are lucky, the curse will fail on it's own in only a couple of months. At the worst, it will last over a year. Once the curse does fail, the boy can answer all of our questions. Until that happens, we need to explain the boy without creating too much of an outcry. That is another reason we want you at Hogwarts. You can confirm the story we make up as being true."

Remus nodded again. "You have a nice kettle of fish. Everyone will be asking questions once they find out there are two Boys-Who-Lived. How many people know about him now?"

"Besides the two of us, Dr. Pantely, Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall. No one else has seen him except for Harry, his housemate Colin Creevey and our caretaker, Argus Filch. Neither of the three noticed the resemblance"

Remus smiled as a thought came to mind. "It's simple to explain, really. He isn't Harry at all, but he is his twin brother, younger by, did you say three minutes?"

Albus returned the smile. "We have already thought along those lines. Those times were very dark, and James and Lily were afraid for their expectant children. They arranged to send the younger of the two to safety, to be fostered in secret."

"And they trusted this to an old friend," Remus said with a smile. "You still need to explain the boy's amnesia, and you will need a name."

Albus looked pointedly. "What would James have named a second son?"

"Harry was named after Lily's father. I would assume, being twins, the other would have been given the name of James' father, Charles."

"Then I must congratulate myself on making an excellent guess." Albus smiled to confirm that he had thought along the same lines. "As for the amnesia, Madam Pomfrey has the solution at hand. Its cause is emotional, a trauma resulting from the boy's recent injuries. He will recover in time."

"I feel as though I needn't have said anything," Remus commented. "You have thought of everything."

"And that is the third reason we need you at Hogwarts. We can tell this to Harry when he is introduced to, um, Charles, but he . . ." Dumbledore paused. "Both boys will need to know more about their parents. An old friend would be more than helpful. When Harry is told he has a brother, and if we are correct he will be a brother with no memory of his past, Harry will have very little to share. He lives with his aunt and her family. The arrangement keeps him safe but it is not very pleasant. He will not want to share that."

Remus nodded thoughtfully. "I see what you mean. Friends are important but they can never take the place of family. I will be happy to help." He paused in turn. "The boy, Charles. Do you have any idea of how or why he was . . . hurt?"

"He was tortured," Albus said firmly. "I have no difficulty using such a harsh word when it is entirely accurate. And then he was mortally wounded by a muggle weapon. I assume he had outlived his usefulness. We don't know who or why, nor do we know how he ended up in Hogwarts."

"He was found in Hogwarts? Inside the school?"

Albus nodded. "It seems he appeared moments before Harry found him. Other students had traversed the same hallway only minutes before and saw nothing. The boy would have been hard to miss."

"I definitely want to come now," Remus said strongly. "I want to be there when all of this is explained. When do you need me?"

"When can you come?"

Remus looked around his small room. "It would take me at least a minute to pack my belongings."

"I would be happy to help," Albus offered. "The boy has been forced to sleep and he's almost recovered from his injuries. We were planning on waking him tomorrow night. Saturday morning, conditions permitting, we will introduce the two boys after Harry finishes with his practice."

* * *

"Harry?" Colin Creevey asked carefully, standing quietly in the common room next to the table Harry was sitting at

Harry and Ron both looked up from the game of wizards chess they were playing to stare at the first year. "Colin?"

"I wanted to warn you."

Ron sniggered. "You're giving warnings now? That's an improvement."

"Ron! ," Harry said petulantly, reminded for some reason of Dobby, the house elf he had met. "What are you warning me about?"

"The picture that I took of you and Lockhart. He's been trying to ask me about signing it. I've been avoiding him but I have his class tomorrow. I don't know what to do."

"Just have him sign it, Colin."

"But he'll want you to sign it, too."

"So did you when you took the picture," Ron said.

"That was then," Colin said with a frown. "Now I'm embarrassed by that picture."

Ron snorted. "And knowing Lockhart, he'll want copies made to show off to people." As both Harry and Colin groaned, Ron had a thought. "Tell him you haven't developed it yet."

"But he'll just keep asking," Colin insisted.

"Exactly," Ron assured him.

Harry smirked. "That's a brilliant idea. Colin, just think how big Lockhart's ego is. I'm sure he won't ask you more than twice, and then he'll probably ignore you to prove it didn't matter."

"Are you sure?"

"It's guaranteed," Ron told him.

Colin suddenly became his usual energetic self. "Thanks. I'm sure it will work."

As he ran off, Ron looked over at Harry. "He's mental, you know."

Harry laughed. "He told me that's what they said about him at home. But that was before he found out about magic."

"Magic has nothing to do with it." Ron moved his Queen. "Checkmate."

"I was distracted," Harry said as an excuse.

"Do you want to play again?"

"I've lost three games already. That's enough for one day."

Ron paused. "Harry, why are you being so friendly to Colin Creevey."

"You know what happened. About finding that boy."

"Of course I do. Colin told me. Colin told everyone."

"He didn't tell me."

"He didn't have to. You were there." Ron paused. "Harry, you didn't tell anyone, did you?"

"I told Colin."

Ron looked confused. "But Colin was there."

Harry nodded, his smile gone. "I knew he would understand how I felt. I was scared, Ron. More scared than I had ever been. And it wasn't for me. I couldn't think of anything to do. I didn't do anything."

"Neither did Colin Creevey." Ron pointed out.

"Yes he did," Harry corrected. "He took a picture."

Ron started to make a joke about Colin but saw how Harry looked. Instead he said, "Colin probably didn't mean to. It was a reflex or something."

"It was," Harry agreed. "Colin felt he had to do something and it was the only thing he could think of."

"At least he didn't do any harm by it."

Harry looked at Ron in surprise. "He didn't do any harm at all. The Fat Lady noticed the flash and looked over, then she called for help. That boy is alive because of what Colin did."

Ron let out his breath. He had not realized he was holding it. Then he gave Harry the Weasley Grin. "He is mental, Harry. No one in his right mind would have thought to take a picture."

"He's a good friend, Ron."

"You're right," Ron said appreciatively, "but you still have to convince Hermione."

* * *

Harry was flying around the pitch, practicing his moves and avoiding the bludgers. Mostly, he was enjoying the fact that he was flying. He noticed Ron and Hermione watching him from the stands while Colin was taking pictures from the edge of the pitch. He also noticed the man who joined his friends but he was too involved to pay much attention at the moment. Ron and Hermione, however, were being distracted from watching the practice. For Ron, this was no small feat.

"May I intrude?" the man asked and the two Gryffindors shrugged their shoulders. Remus

Lupin introduced himself as he sat down behind the two, and they politely returned the favor. He then bothered them with another question.

"Is that Harry Potter?"

Ron and Hermione looked at each other, familiar with Harry's notoriety.

"Why yes," Hermione answered for them. "That is the Boy-Who-Lived."

"Oh, that his father had lived as well." Remus sighed. "James would have loved watching his son."

"You knew Harry's dad?" Ron asked, his head turning suddenly. Hermione was staring as well.

"I knew James and Lily very well. We went to school together." Remus smiled at a memory. "I even changed Harry's nappies on one occasion, but I don't think I should mention that."

Neither of the two was paying the slightest attention to the practice. Both were now riveted to their seats. Hermione recovered first.

"You've come to see Harry. Haven't you?"

"Of course he has," Ron said. "You have, haven't you?"

"Yes. I came to see him as well. I assume you are friends of his."

"Best friends," Ron assured him, and Hermione nodded. "We should let Harry know you're here."

"Not yet," Remus said. "Let him finish his practice. I won't be leaving, and he is obviously enjoying himself."

Hermione smiled at his words, then frowned. "You said you came to see him as well. Did you come to see someone else as well? The boy he found? Do you know him, too?"

Remus laughed at her seriousness. "Dumbledore was right when he told me you were smart." He smiled as Hermione beamed at the compliment. "You are right on both counts. I met the boy last night. We had a wonderful conversation. I thought I would invite Harry to join me after he eats, to meet him."

"Not just him, right?" Ron said quickly. "His friends, too? You wouldn't have mentioned it otherwise." Ron's eyes lit up when Remus said that would be a wonderful idea. He turned to see a matching look in Hermione's face. They would be the first students to meet the mystery boy.

"Who is he?" Hermione asked.

"That is something I need to talk to Harry about, first. I promised Dumbledore that I wouldn't say anything to anyone else before then. And I think I've stretched that rule enough. I also need to ask if you know where a boy named Colin Creevey is. Because he was with Harry, Albus wants him to come as well."

Ron turned around and pointed to the edge of the pitch where a camera flash went off. Colin took two more pictures then happened to look over to where Ron and Hermione were sitting. Five minutes later, he had the same attitude that they had, wishing that practice would end so they could get Harry to join them.

* * *

Harry gasped as Ron quickly informed him of everything Remus Lupin had told them. He even offered to go to the infirmary immediately, but Remus told him no. "Everyone else wants to have lunch first, even if the four of you don't."

"You mean six," Fred said as he and George walked up. "Ron, if you want a private conversation you have to learn not to yell."

Remus eyed the twins with amusement. "If either of you has the curiosity of your father, I think you would find a way to join us, even if I said no."

"You don't know what it's like," Fred told him as they walked back to the school.

"This is the biggest thing to happen since . . ." George paused to look at Harry, who laughed in response. ". . . since Harry Potter came to Hogwarts."

Harry then asked his own question. "Mr. Lupin, why are you here? I mean, it's wonderful to have someone to talk to who knew my parents, but why now?"

"I will explain what I can during lunch, but I will tell you this much. You are the reason I came once I was invited. I was curious to find out what happened to my best friends' family." Remus sighed. "You look very much like your father, but you have Lily's eyes. Looking at you reminds me of happier days." He cleared his throat. "Enough of this maudlin rambling. It's time to eat."

* * *

Fred and George were as curious as the others about why the boy was being kept secret, but they were satisfied with being part of the group. Dumbledore was there to greet them when they arrived at the infirmary, showing no surprise at the number of people who had come. Instead he showed his approval.

"I think this is wonderful. Charles will meet Harry with his friends."

"Charles?" Fred asked.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley. The boy everyone has been talking about has a name. You will meet him shortly. Madam Pomfrey is helping him dress. He has been told about Harry and Colin and he wants to be at his best when he meets them, and you."

"Sir," Harry said, "Mr. Lupin said you would answer any and all of my questions about him, but only after I meet him. I was curious why."

"There is a simple answer. Neither Remus nor myself could think of a better way to handle this situation." He smiled at Harry's puzzled look, then turned as Madam Pomfrey announced that they were ready.

All eyes turned to the partition that separated the boy's bed from the rest of the room, and six voices gasped when Harry Potter walked from behind with Madam Pomfrey at his side.

"You must be Harry," he said as he stepped forward.

"And you're Charles?"

Fred and George looked at each other and grinned. "Charles Potter!"

That remark shook Harry loose from his surprise. He stared, then asked, "Do you . . ." and finished the question by pushing his hair off his forehead.

"Nasty scar." Charles looked at Harry's forehead, then understood, and pushed his own hair out of the way. "I appear to have been more careful."

"This is great," Ron said. "Harry, ask him if he can play Quidditch."

"Definitely," Fred and George said together.

"You must be joking," Hermione yelled at Ron. "This is a big moment for Harry and you ask a question like that."

"It's important," Ron said half in embarrassment, happy that Fred and George were backing him up.

Harry looked over at them as Hermione let out a loud huff, then turned back to Charles with a smirk.

"Do you?"

"I have no idea."

Harry was stumped by the answer and turned to Dumbledore.

"It seems, Harry, that I have to explain a few things to you and Charles. The first, which I have already explained to your brother, is the result of his injuries."

"He IS my brother?"

"I think that is obvious." Albus smiled. "But there is a problem. Because of his injuries, Charles has suffered a loss of memory. He knows nothing of his past. We even had to tell him his name. And before you ask, Miss Granger, he will recover in time. It is not permanent."

Hermione blushed and smiled at the same time. She also held her breath while Dumbledore explained to everyone the prearranged story. She even cried when Dumbledore described the conditions under which the twins were separated. And she was the first of the group to welcome Charles to Hogwarts, and the only one to do so by hugging him.

"Colin, do you have your camera?" Fred asked.

"That's a great idea," Colin said enthusiastically as he pulled his camera out of his robes. "Harry, stand next to your brother."

"I have a better idea," Dumbledore said as he took the camera from Colin. "Why don't you make the first picture a group portrait?"

"Picture?" Charles asked.

"It's so Colin's parents will believe him when he tells them what happened," Harry explained.

Hermione shook her head. "I think Charles was asking about the camera." She turned to Charles. "I assume you don't remember cameras."

"I suppose you are right. But Professor Dumbledore said he would 'make' a group portrait?"

"It's an instant picture," Fred explained easily. "You don't have to wait for days until the painter is finished."

"Oh," Charles said suddenly. "You mean photography."

George grinned. "You could say that. If you wanted to use the right word."

Smiling easily, Charles and Harry stood next to each other with Hermione and Colin on either side. The three Weasleys, being tall enough, stood behind them, with Ron in the middle. Dumbledore snapped the shutter, and Charles remembered to not look at the flash.

As he handed the camera back to Colin, Dumbledore smiled inwardly. He was right to bring Remus along. The man's familiarity with James and Lily made the impossible story seem more than plausible. This was proven when Remus decided to explain why the two boys had their names.

"Our Grandfathers?" Harry said in surprise. "I never knew their names. I have an album that Hagrid gave me, but there was nothing to tell me who the people were."

"I'll help you with that," Remus offered. "When it is convenient, the two of you can stop by my room."

"Then you are staying?"

Remus smirked. "I'm the Assistant Groundskeeper, but I have a room within Hogwarts."

Charles looked at Harry then to Dumbledore. "Headmaster, I know all of this is new, to both Harry and myself, but I must ask if I am to stay as well."

"He'll be going to school, Sir. Right?" Ron asked.

"Perhaps," Dumbledore answered. "He will stay at the school until his memory returns, but I don't think he will be a student. After all, he is already twelve. He would have to be placed as a first year. It could cause several problems."

"We can tutor him," Ron insisted. "Well, Hermione can."

"It takes more than tutoring, Mr. Weasley. And besides, Gryffindor has the same Quidditch team from last year. It wouldn't make any difference."

Ron blushed furiously at those words, while Fred and George laughed. Hermione smirked and gave him an 'I told you so'.

"That is the second time you have mentioned Quidditch," Charles said. "I assume it is a sport, but I am not familiar with it." He paused. "I do not think I am familiar with it."

"If you're anything like Harry," Fred said quickly.

"You'll be a natural at it," George continued.

"Just like Harry," Fred concluded.

"We should know," George added. "We know what it's like to be twins."

"How about it, Professor?" Fred asked the headmaster. "We'll give Charles the tour of the school and the grounds and let him try a broom."

"What would I use a broom for?" Charles asked.

Harry grinned. "You use it to fly."

Charles' eyes widened when he realized Harry was telling the truth, then turned with unexpected eagerness.

Dumbledore waved them away. "Go with my blessing."

Madam Pomfrey shouted as they went to leave. "If he ends up back here, I'll have all your heads."


	3. Counterpart

Chapter Three: Counterpart

Ron gave the password, and Charles entered Gryffyndor Tower for the first time. He was delighted by what he saw.

"This looks a grand place. And you live here?"

"Harry?" Lavender Brown was the first to notice. Her question was loud enough for everyone else to look up. "There's two of you."

"Um, yes," was all Harry could say, but he was grinning like a fool.

"Permit me," Fred interrupted. "This is Charles Potter. He has the distinction of being Harry's long lost twin brother." He smiled amiably, and said to George, "I believe I have clarified the situation."

"A wonderful job," George admitted.

"Wait a minute. How can Harry have a twin?" someone yelled.

Fred smirked. "Let's see. Same parents. Same birthday. And they look alike."

"It worked for us," George added.

Charles marveled at the number of questions he was asked. Most of them he didn't know the answer to, and some of them he didn't understand at all. Hermione helped out by repeating much of what Professor Dumbledore and Remus Lupin had said. Charles received a great deal of sympathy because of his memory loss, especially from the older girls.

With all of the attention, the afternoon was well spent before Harry and Ron brought Charles up to their dorm room. Harry excused himself to wash and change from his Quidditch robes, and promised to be as quick as he could.

Silence followed as Ron and Charles stared, first at each other then anywhere else. After a few minutes and Harry not returning, Charles broached the subject.

"I apologize for my rudeness. I would have thought that the first person I found myself alone with would be Harry. I am at a loss for things to say."

Ron nodded. "I know what you mean. Harry's my best mate at school, and I could talk all day with him about anything."

"But." Charles added.

"But you're not him. You look like him but you don't act like him."

Charles looked at him curiously. "May I ask how I act?"

Ron looked awkwardly at the floor. "It's hard to say. I've only known you for a couple of hours, but . . ." Then he laughed. "I know how to describe it. You act like Draco Malfoy would if he wasn't such an insufferable git. But don't tell Harry I said that," he added hurriedly.

Charles smiled. "I will not tell him, but I do not understand your reference."

"Um," Ron paused, "Malfoy's always nasty and acts as though he's better than everyone else."

Charles frowned. "You think I am nice but that I act as though I am better than everyone else?"

"NO, um, yeah." Ron shrugged his shoulders. "It's not a good description. It's just like right now. You talk to me not like you're better, but like we're better than everyone else."

"That is curious," Charles noted. "I must assume the reason to be that we ARE better than everyone else."

Both boys began laughing at the joke. As they relaxed, Ron made another comment. "You're different from Harry. You know that. You act like you can handle anything. Harry isn't like that at all. He always worries about things."

Charles nodded thoughtfully. "I was told about him before we met, but they surprised him with my presence. Perhaps that is the difference."

"No it isn't. You're smarter than Harry, too."

"How do you know?"

"It's the way you talk. The words you use. Like when I called Malfoy a git. Harry would have said, 'I don't know what you mean,' not 'I do not understand'."

"Is that wrong of me?"

Ron shrugged. "Hermione likes you because of it. I can tell that already."

The door opened and Neville was standing there. "Harry, Ron, Hermione's waiting for you in the common room. Where's Charles?"

"I am here. It is Harry who is missing."

"Harry has been gone for a long time," Ron noted.

* * *

Fred walked into the boys bathroom to see a clean and changed Harry brushing his hair.

"Harry?"

Harry jumped at the noise. "What do you want?"

"You're taking a long time in here. Your brother is getting worried."

A guilty look crossed Harry's face. "I shouldn't keep him waiting."

"Go ahead," Fred suggested. "He's finally having a conversation with my dear little brother. I think he likes talking TO somebody. It's hard not knowing who you are."

"And you would know."

Fred eyed Harry carefully. "I can imagine. It's a gift I have. Can you imagine what it would be like without a brother, much less a twin brother?"

Harry stared at Fred as though he were a stranger. "What are you talking about?"

Fred leaned against the sink next to the one Harry was using. "A couple of hours ago, you were the only person in your own little world. Now you have to share it with someone. It isn't easy. I still find it hard and I've known George all my life." Fred continued in a serious tone. "Harry, from now on, when you look at yourself you won't always be looking in a mirror. Charles isn't only your twin brother. He's you if things had happened differently. That's who George is. He's who I would have been if I had me as a brother."

Harry snorted. "That sounds stupid."

"But it's true. Harry, none of us have known Charles very long, but one thing is obvious. He may not remember his past, but the way he acts shows what kind of past he must have had. I think that's why you're hiding in here."

"I'm not hiding."

"No, you're only spending an hour combing your hair." Fred pulled the comb from Harry's hand. "You know what I'm talking about. Charles may have come here after something bad happened, but before that . . . Harry, we know about the Dursleys. He never met them. He was raised by people who wanted him. Don't hate him because he's the lucky one."

"I . . . I didn't think of that," Harry said slowly.

Fred smirked. "Yes you did. Maybe not off the top of your head, but you saw it." Fred became serious again now that Harry was watching him. "I know you would have rather been him, but think about it this way. Would you have wanted him to be you? Would you rather he was the one that everything happened to?"

"Of course not."

"He's your brother, Harry, and for the first time in his life he needs you."

Harry stared. "He needs me?"

"You're all he has. YOU are all he knows. He's talking to Ron because Ron is YOUR friend. He's here in Gryffindor because this is YOUR house. He has Hermione worried because he's YOUR brother. He needs you, Harry. Don't let him down."

Harry swallowed hard. This was the longest Fred had talked to him without making a joke. But Fred was making sense. He was right about Charles, about Charles being the lucky one except at the end. "I was afraid," he admitted. "Charles seemed larger than life. Even without his memory, he seems better than me."

Fred nodded. "I'll tell you a secret, but you can't tell anyone. I always feel the same way about George."

"But you and George are the same."

"Really?" The Weasley smile returned to Fred's face. "Then it must be my imagination."

"I'm being stupid," Harry admitted. "I shouldn't be jealous of Charles if he's better at something than I am. I should be happy for him."

"Change that to being happy with him and I think you've got it."

Harry smiled for the first time. "Thanks, Fred."

"You should thank George. It was his idea that I talk to you. He says I'm better at that than he is."

Fred walked with Harry back to his dorm and opened the door to hear Ron saying, "It's a good thing my brother Charlie was able to help. We might have been stuck with that dragon."

Charles began laughing then looked up to see Harry. His laughter died to become a smile of happy relief.

"Sorry I took so long, Charles."

"We were worried. I was worried. I thought I had done something wrong."

Harry almost laughed. "You're my brother. How could you do anything wrong?"

"It's Madam Pomfrey's fault he feels that way," Ron said. "She thought it would be a good idea to make it obvious that the two of you were twins. She made his hair grow until it was the same length as yours."

"So you normally keep your hair short?" Fred asked.

Charles frowned. "I do not think so. I think I usually keep it longer. I told Madam Pomfrey that it felt uncomfortable. She told me that I may not remember my past but that I do remember what I like."

"Where to, first?" Ron asked after they were all gathered in the common room. "We still have time before dinner."

"To the pitch," Colin suggested.

"Not now," George told them. "The Slytherins are practicing."

"We don't need to use the pitch," Ron suggested.

Hermione huffed. "If you're so eager to see Charles fly why don't you give him a broom and throw him out the window?"

"That's a great idea," Fred answered and made to run off.

"DON"T YOU DARE."

"They were only joking, Hermione," Harry assured her.

"I wouldn't take your word for it." Hermione and Fred shared identical smirks. "Why don't we visit Hagrid? I'm sure he would love to meet your brother." She paused and looked at Charles. "It feels strange to say that. Wonderful, but strange."

Charles nodded. "Somehow, It feels . . . comfortable. It may seem strange but I do not feel any surprise at having a brother."

Harry smiled in turn. "I know what you mean. I was surprised when I first saw you but . . . I feel . . . I feel as though my entire world has changed. It feels right having you here. For the first time that I can remember, I have a family."

"Oooh, that is so sweet," Fred and George said in unison.

Ron feigned disgust and said. "Harry, if I knew you wanted a family that badly, I would have given you mine."

* * *

"Hold on, I'm comin'," Hagrid yelled at the incessant knocking. "Why, Harry, Ron, Hermione, what're ye doing here? I thought ye'd be busy." He paused. "Yer done visiting that boy? What's he like? Who is he? Harry, why are you staring at me like that? And you two, why are ye laughin'?"

Hagrid's eyes goggled when Harry stepped from around the corner of the hut.

"He's like me, Hagrid."

"Well I'll be." Hagrid stared in amazement, then caught himself. "Ye might as well come in and explain yerselves. This has to be one heck of a story."

"If he offers you something to eat," Hermione whispered to Charles, "be polite but don't take it."

The five sat round, and Harry explained everything he knew, and Charles confirmed what he could. Hagrid poured tea for everyone and offered some homemade cookies. Charles took one out of curiosity and nibbled it carefully, regretting it instantly. As they became comfortable, Charles asked a question that had been nagging at him.

"Hagrid, I was told that my," he looked at Harry, "OUR parents sent me away for my safety. But it does not seem right."

"Ye have to understand those times, Charles. They were dark days and getting darker. Yer parents were on You-Know-Who's list for some time, and he had already done in more powerful wizards than they were. They couldn't part wit both of ye, that would be too suspicious. It makes sense that they'd sneak one of ye away, just in case."

"But why were we not reunited once the danger was over?"

Hagrid noticed Harry's sudden frown, and that Charles did not notice it. "The troubles ain't over. Some say they're beginnin' again. You-Know-Who . . ."

"Voldemort," Harry said suddenly, and everyone except Charles unconsciously winced. "They didn't tell you about him, Charles. Did they tell you what happened?" Charles shook his head, as a feeling of dread overcame him. "He killed our parents. I know Dumbledore told you that. Then he tried to kill me but . . . something happened. Our mother cast a spell on me as she died, and when Voldemort attacked me, his curse backfired and almost killed him. Almost. That's how I got my scar."

Charles nodded, looking at Harry in a new light.

Hagrid cleared his throat. "Tha's why they never came for ye, Charles. No one knew about ye, and ye were safe. Ye had no family to go back to. And those muggles they stuck Harry with ain't no family by my book. If ye ask me, ye had the better end of the deal. When ye remember, ye'll see I was right."

"Then what happened to me?"

Hagrid shrugged. "I guess the folks who had ye raised ye like their own. No reason to do otherwise. Until whatever happened that made ye come here. At least I'm guessin' that's the way it was."

"We'll have to wait until you remember," Harry said, and both boys smiled sadly.

"Are you hungry?" Hagrid asked. "It's almost time to eat."

"Definitely," the chorus responded.

* * *

As they reentered the school, Colin came running up to them, almost breathless. "I finished it," he said to Harry. "You only have to sign it." He handed him a framed photograph and a quill.

Harry smiled as he saw three names already on the picture. He added his own and handed the quill to Ron, then Hermione. He handed the picture back to Colin so that the first year could make the formal presentation. He needn't have bothered because all Colin did was say, "here," and hand the photograph to Charles.

"This is the portrait you took?" Charles asked and Colin nodded. "We are moving?"

"One of the fifth years showed me how to develop it so it would do that."

"Thank you, Colin, but I need your quill." He took the quill and signed his own name. "Now I will know which one in the picture is me."

The small group entered the Great Hall to be met by sudden silence. Almost all of the students had gathered early in the hope of seeing their mysterious guest, and now the wish was fulfilled. Charles Potter stood in the entrance with Harry Potter at his side. Everyone could see that they looked identical.

In the initial silence a voice was heard. "Cor. There's two of them."

"That was Malfoy," Harry said, looking up to his brother. "Don't worry. You'll hate him."

"This is too good to let pass," Fred said loudly as he walked up.

"I wonder if they'll let you both play seeker," George added. "After all, they let both of us play beater."

Fred grabbed Charles by the arm. "Come with us."

George grabbed his other arm, and they escorted Charles to the Gryffindor table, stopping only when all three were standing on top of the table itself.

"Oy. Quiet," Fred called out needlessly.

George then made an announcement. "We are proud to present, in the most embarrassing fashion, the newest member of Gryffindor."

"The twin brother of our very own seeker," Fred shouted, "Introducing Charles Potter."

Both twins then jumped off the table. Charles stood there, blushing furiously, as almost everyone applauded. The applause died down as Albus Dumbledore's voice was heard.

"Thank you, Mister and Mister Weasley for that introduction, but I must correct you on one point. Mr. Potter is not yet a student at this school. In fact, I have not even had the chance to ask him about it. If and when that happens he may be sorted into a different house." He paused as applause came from the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables. "Until then I must ask Mr. Potter to step down from the table as it is not permitted, for students or guests."

Charles stepped down amid friendly laughter and sat next to Harry. "I was not told that I am to be a student here. I thought that was conjecture."

"Dumbledore wanted you to feel comfortable being here before he asked you," Fred replied. "He told me he was planning on asking you, but he did say that the choice would be yours."

"I understand," Charles said in an angry tone. "Publically humiliate me, then ask me if I want more of the same. Is that it?"

"That isn't it at all," Harry said hastily, then saw the look on his brother's face. Ron and Hermione, as well as the twins, were already laughing, as Charles grinned widely. "Well, maybe it is that way," Harry admitted.

"Harry," Charles said sincerely, "I would love to go to school here."

"I think my brothers heard you," Ron said, and pointed at Fred and George who were almost running to the teachers table.

"Be careful what you wish for, Charles," Hermione said cheerfully. "For you will surely get it."

* * *

It was Sunday, and Charles awoke in his private room as the sun was beginning to rise. As far as he could remember, this was the second day of his life, albeit an interesting one. No one specifically said it, but it was obvious that they believed he could learn magic. Magic did not surprise him but he felt a sense of pride that his brother thought him good enough to learn.

His Brother. The words felt right. Charles could not picture himself in a world without Harry. With this thought in his head, he rose from bed and dressed in the clothes given him, cleaned from the day before. He performed his morning ablutions and proceeded with difficulty to find the Great Hall on his own.

This early in the morning, the Hall was almost empty. He saw a small group at one of the middle tables, and walked over out of curiosity.

"It's him," a girl his age said when she spotted him, then smiled at him. "Good Morning. Charles, isn't it?"

"Thank you, yes. I suppose I am early to breakfast. May I bother you?"

"No bother at all," a blond fifth year boy said, "I'm Cedric Diggory, Captain of the Hufflepuff team. And that was Susan Bones who said good morning to you." Cedric introduced the rest of the group, and invited Charles to join them. The subject, of course, was Quidditch.

"Do you know much about the game, Charles?"

"I have heard a great deal about the sport but I do not know it. All of my information is one day old."

Cedric looked around at the others then back at Charles. "Have you ever flown on a broom?"

"To my knowledge I have never flown."

"Bring him with us, Cedric," a third year said. "We'll give him a try."

"He isn't a member of Hufflepuff. He's not allowed to try out."

Susan smirked. "I've read the rules. He's not allowed to be on the team. Besides, he isn't really trying out." She paused. "Charles, why aren't you with your brother?"

"I was given my own room. Professor Dumbledore thought I should want time to myself, time to adjust. I thought Harry might be here. It seems that I am an early riser and he is not."

Ernie MacMillan, a second year, nodded. "If they don't have to, everyone sleeps late on Sundays."

"Then why are all of you up and about?"

Cedric shrugged. "Quidditch practice. We only have two players left from last year. We need all the practice time we can get just to pick the new team members. And you are welcome to come with us if you like."

"I should wait for Harry."

"We can leave a message, telling him where you went," Ernie offered.

Cedric laughed. "Ernie wants to get you on a broom, Charlie. Do you know about your brother?"

"I was told he was a natural flyer." Charles hesitated. "I would like to get on a broom. I know Harry was talking about it, but . . ."

"Eat up, then," Cedric said. "You don't have to join us, but if you do you'll need all the energy you can get."

Charles filled his plate and forced himself to eat. He felt a thrill thinking about flying, but he also felt a sense of relief. Everyone bragged about Harry, but he wasn't Harry. The last thing he wanted was for his brother to watch him fail. He considered Cedric's offer a Godsend.

* * *

As a dozen Hufflepuffs watched, Cedric handed Charles a broom. "We'll start with the basics. You mount the broom and kick off while leaning forward. The more you lean, the faster you go. You push the front end of the broom in whichever direction you want to go. To slow down and stop, you pull up on the broom while leaning back. Have you got that?"

"I understand."

"Do you think you can do it? You've been watching us for most of an hour."

Cedric asked the question as though the answer was obvious. It had its effect and made Charles a little less nervous. He happily nodded, and mounted the broom as he had seen the others do. He kicked off the ground and leaned forward as the broom flew into the air.

Instinctively, Charles leveled off as he reached a point just above the tallest of the three hoops, and stopped to see what he had done. He looked down to see Cedric making a circling motion with his hands. He waved to show he understood, and began to fly around the edge of the pitch. After the first lap, he leaned forward and began racing around as fast as he could. After two more laps he did a quick reverse and flew the other way. He swerved as something flew past him and turned sharply to spot Cedric on his own broom. They both stopped and grinned at each other.

"This is wonderful," Charles told him. "I can see why Harry likes the game so much. I would love any excuse to fly."

"That was a nice reversal," Cedric commented from ten feet above him. "Most of us have to practice a few times to do that." Charles startled at the comment, and Cedric grinned. "Harry's better than you are by a good bit, but he's been flying for a year. You didn't embarrass yourself."

Cedric pointed to the stands. Even at this distance Charles could easily recognize Harry, with Ron and Hermione. They had come down to watch him fly, but they let him do it on his own. Charles smiled at the thought that Harry seemed to understand him. Joyfully, he waved to them. They cheered loud enough that he could hear them from across the pitch. As if to emphasis the point, a camera flashed.

This was to be an ironic point in Charles' life. This would always be the fondest memory he had of his brother, that Harry was there and that he had shared this moment with him. In the back of his mind, Charles noted that Harry was not upset that Charles did not wait for his twin to show him how to fly. Harry looked as though he appreciated and expected Charles to act exactly the way he did. Charles may have read too much into the moment but if asked at that very second if he would want to stay with his brother forever, he would have said yes.

From one of the towers, two figures were watching the events on the pitch with more than a passing interest.

"He's as reckless as his 'brother'," Professor McGonagall said.

Dumbledore smiled. "Perhaps I should take the advice of the Weasley twins and admit him as a student."

"Albus, you can't be serious? We don't know anything about the boy."

"We know a great deal about him, Minerva. We know that he shares certain attributes with our Harry Potter. And I do think that if Gryffindor needed another player you would be more than eager to enroll the boy."

"Nonsense."

Albus smiled as his eyes twinkled. "I remember last year, when Gryffindor had no one to play the position of seeker."

McGonagall smiled in return. "I suppose I may have been a bit hasty back then, but the team was in terrible shape." She watched as the Hufflepuffs let Charles join them in practice. "He makes friends easily. He is similar to Harry in that respect."

"It's the differences that interest me," Albus said. "I've noted several things about him. For example, he knew about photography but he did not know what a camera was. Why do you suppose that is?"

"That's simple, Albus. Where he comes from, they don't call it a camera."

"Then you agree with me that he is not part of this world. When we woke him, and first talked, did you notice the odd thing when we talked with him about magic?"

"He didn't know anything about magic when we talked to him. The portraits were a surprise to him. The same with Madam Pomfrey conjuring a tray to put his meal on. He gave a small shriek when that happened."

"And laughed heartily at his own surprise afterward. I thought it odd that he clearly knew about magic, but did not know what magic could do."

Minerva McGonagall paused as Albus mentioned that. "Yesterday, after dinner, I had Harry give Charles his wand to see if the boy could make a simple change, a match into a pin. Harry's wand didn't work very well, although Charles did have some success when he tried Hermione Granger's wand. He was surprised and delighted that he did anything. He's not as powerful as Harry, but he is not that far behind him."

Albus nodded. "You understand my point. Charles comes from a world where he never learned magic although, somehow, he knew that magic was real."

"His language is impeccable," McGonagall noted. "He speaks like a young scholar. He isn't stupid or ignorant by any standard. There may be a cultural reason why he never studied magic."

"We shall find out in time." Albus gave one last look at the Quidditch pitch and turned to go inside. "I will talk to Charles. If he is interested, I will admit him as a student."

"Be careful, Albus."

"I know, Minerva. But I fear, regardless of his past, he will be with us for a very long time. When he does regain his memory, I want him to have so many ties to us that he will be unwilling to break away."

It was this last statement that produced the irony. Charles would readily agree and, but for a brief moment of doubt when his memories came rushing back to him, he would never regret the choice.


	4. Enrollment

Chapter Four: Enrollment

"You look like a proper young wizard, Mr. Potter" Albus Dumbledore commented to the boy in his office.

Charles looked at himself in the mirror as he adjusted his wizards hat. "I have to thank Harry for all of this. I do not know how I can ever repay him."

"The money was left to him by his parents, your parents. Harry feels, rightfully I think, that it is yours as much as his. How do you feel?"

"Tired, Sir."

"It has been a busy week for you," Dumbledore admitted. "You've been dragged all over the school and the grounds, paraded in front of everyone at every meal, and cajoled into going to every class, and to every Quidditch practice."

"That last part was voluntary," Charles admitted. "Harry was letting me join him."

"Then I will omit that last statement and note instead that today we forced you to walk the length and breadth of Diagon Alley." He paused, then added. "There is no rush, you know. We can do this tomorrow, or later if you prefer. This is a big step you're taking. And you have only been with us for one week."

"Eight days, Sir, and I would like to wait but I am afraid that if I do not go through with this now, I will keep putting it off. I need to feel a part of something instead of apart."

Albus smiled and rose from his desk. "Very well. We'll parade you once more through the Great Hall, then let you become an ordinary student."

Charles smiled, and stifled a yawn. "Is it time to go? I fear I will not be able to wait much longer."

Albus led the young boy from his office and to the Great Hall. "I want you to know, Charles, that this is not permanent. It is convenient to have you as a student, I will admit that, but if you ever feel that it is wrong for you, I will personally make other arrangements."

"Why should it feel wrong, Sir?"

"Because one day you will remember, and no one knows what is locked in your mind. You may remember why you never came here, and think it a good reason."

Charles grinned at the thought. "Headmaster, I do not think there is cause to worry. Madam Pomfrey told me that I still remember what I like. I think that I will remember not coming here to study magic because I thought I could not."

Dumbledore stopped just before the entrance to the Great Hall. "If that is true, then I am grateful for making the right decision. But I must ask you one last time. Are you ready?"

Charles swallowed hard and nodded, knowing that when he entered, every student and teacher would be staring at him. He walked in and walked past the student tables without daring to look around and stopped where Professor McGonagall was standing next to a stool.

On the stool was the Sorting Hat. Professor McGonagall motioned for him to wait. Then the Hat began to sing:

_A special treat this time of year_

_A change of pace and cause for cheer_

_A student comes from far away_

_To stand before you on this day_

_If he's smart and on his toes_

_Then off to Ravenclaw he goes_

_If he's made of sterner stuff_

_You'll see him in Hufflepuff_

_If it's courage that fills his heart_

_In Gryffindor he'll get his start_

_And if he shows great ambition_

_Then he will go to Slytherin_

_This song is short, it's for one soul_

_To try me on and reach his goal._

The hat fell silent, and Professor McGonagall unrolled a parchment. She called out "Potter, Charles," and picked up the Sorting Hat. Charles sat down on the stool and the hat was placed on his head.

"Curious and curious," a soft voice spoke inside his head. "I see it all. Even the things you don't know."

Charles caught his breath at the words. "Can you tell me? Do you know who I am?"

"You'll know in time. It is not my place to tell. I must decide where to put you. You would do well in any house."

"Gryffindor," Charles said anxiously.

"Gryffindor? Even if there is a better house for you?"

"A better house?"

"To bring out what is best in you."

The hat sensed the confusion and fear that swept through Charles' mind.

"There is a house that will do more for you. You are eager to prove yourself, and you won't be in your brother's shadow. You will succeed or fail on your own."

"But Harry?"

"He would want what is best for you."

"He told me that."

"It is settled then," the hat whispered, then shouted out, "HUFFLEPUFF."

Professor McGonagall removed the hat and Charles looked out over the stunned crowd of students. Then the Hufflepuff table went wild, the students standing up and cheering their newest housemate.

Slowly, Charles stood up, looking to the Gryffindor table to see Harry's reaction. He saw the surprise on his brother's face, and something else. Acceptance. Harry and Charles both knew at that moment that they would always be brothers at heart, as well as fact. But they were also separate, each his own person. As Harry and the other Gryffindors began to applaud, Charles walked over to the Hufflepuff table, and to his new life.

"Charlie," Susan Bones called out. "Sit here."

The call of 'Charlie' caught his attention, and Charles walked to the open spot that Susan made for him. She kept him from sitting immediately by hugging him first. "I should say I expected this, Charlie, but I'm surprised. Just like everyone else."

"The hat said I would be better off here," Charles admitted.

Ernie Macmillan, who was sitting across from Susan reached over to shake his hand. Then two other boys named Justin and Wayne shook his hand as well. Cedric Diggory came over and congratulated him and added, sotto voce, that he should consider joining the Quidditch team. Charles grinned and said he would love to be on the team, that he was an excellent seeker. Cedric, the team seeker, laughed at being hoist by his own petard but left the invitation open.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, and the hall grew quiet. Charles and the others took their seats and listened.

"Congratulations to Hufflepuff, and to Charles Potter. May you prove worthy of each other. May I also congratulate the other houses on helping Charles adjust to his new life." Applause was noticeably absent from one table. "I should also note that next Saturday will be the first Hogsmeade weekend. Only those who are Third Year and above, and have received permission from their parents and guardians, are permitted to go."

Dumbledore sat down, and the food appeared. Charles quickly filled his plate, trying not to look at anyone else. Susan Bones noticed.

"Charlie, don't worry about us bothering you. You'll be here for a long time. We can wait and bother you later."

"The truth is, Susan, I did not have anything to eat since breakfast. I am starving."

"We're going to bother you anyway, Charlie," Ernie said. "Susan got her wish this morning and became a chaser for the team. She doesn't care about you at all . . . unless you join the team."

"I will be trying out for the team," Charles assured them. "I want the chance to fly again." Ernie pointed to Susan who was giving Cedric a prearranged hand signal. The two of them laughed as Susan blushed.

After a few mouthfuls, Ernie asked another question. "Charlie, are you a first year or a second year?"

"I assumed I would be a second year, because my brother is. Is that important?"

"For Quidditch, no," Ernie answered. "For us it means a lot. If they make you a first year then you won't be with us. Me and Susan and Justin, that is."

Megan Jones, sitting next to Susan spoke up. "I know the solution. Charlie will be a second year. If need be, all of us will tutor him in the things he missed from last year."

The second years all readily agreed until a fourth year interrupted. "Charlie, You heard what she said. ALL of us will help you, if that's what it takes. Welcome to Hufflepuff."

* * *

A very tired Charles Potter was escorted to his new house by a score of jubilant new housemates. Always conscious of their status, they were happy with the notoriety of their newest member. Charlie, on the other hand, was happy to finally be going to bed. He stopped when everyone else did, and stared at the picture of a field on the wall in front of him. Someone called out, "Barrenwort," and the wall to the right of the picture seemed to cave in, revealing a round opening.

Charlie followed Ernie and Justin into the common room and stared again. It was a long narrow room with a low ceiling. Rounded windows in one wall revealed the night sky, while a fire burned cheerfully in the fireplace in the center of that wall. The other three walls were covered with bookcases but not all of the bookcases held books, and Charlie would have had a difficult time figuring out some of the things on the other shelves. There were gaps in the bookcases on the left and right. By watching the others, Charlie quickly figured out that these were the hallways leading to the boys and girls dorms. To prove his point, Ernie led him to the hallway on the right, a long winding corridor that refused to remain straight.

"Where do I sleep?"

"That's a good question," Ernie said. "I guess we'll have to find an empty bed."

A brown haired boy, Anthony Goldstein, stepped out of the second room from the end and waved. "Ernie, you have to see this."

They rushed forward and the boy led them into the room. It was a curiously shaped room, a half circle with the beds all in a row along the curved wall.

"Well, Charlie," Ernie said, "it seems you have the bed next to mine."

Charlie looked to where Ernie was pointing and saw the bed at the end of a row of six, an open trunk in front of it. All of his new clothes and supplies were in the trunk as well as the framed picture Colin had given him. Behind him he heard Justin call out that it was amazing.

"Why is it amazing?"

Ernie laughed. "Justin is muggle born. That's why he was surprised. This morning when we got up, there were only five beds in this room. Now the room is big enough for six beds."

"How?" was all Charlie could ask.

Ernie couldn't help himself. "I think they used magic."

* * *

"I hate Quidditch already," Charlie said as he left the common room.

Susan laughed at him. "You've only been up for fifteen minutes."

"And breakfast will not even be served for another hour."

"It was Cedric's idea," Wayne Hopkins explained. "There won't be anyone using the pitch this time of morning, and I think Cedric wants to see what you can do without a big crowd around."

Susan nodded. "The whole school knows about Harry, and they know you can fly. All of us are curious about you as well."

Charlie grumbled but he was amused. It was only his first full day as a Hufflepuff.

As the three approached the main entrance, a flash went off, and a familiar voice said with annoyance, "Colin, do you have to?"

"Sorry, Harry."

As the spots cleared from his eyes, Charlie saw Harry, Ron, and Hermione standing there with Colin.

"We heard the news," Harry said with a wide grin.

"How?" Susan Bones asked.

"Anthony Goldstein," Hermione Granger said smugly. "I helped him with his Potions final last year and he owed me a favor."

"And you're going to spy on us?"

"Yes and no," Harry admitted. "I thought Charles would like to borrow my broom." He pulled his hand from behind his back to reveal what he was holding.

"That's a Nimbus 2000, Charlie," Wayne pointed out, then said in a depreciative term, "Only the Slytherins have better brooms."

"Charlie?" Hermione asked, curious at the change of name.

Charlie smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

"I told you he'd fit in," Ron said authoritatively. "But he would have done better in Gryffindor."

"He's lying," Wayne Hopkins said. "They have the same team as last year. You'd never get to play."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Ron insisted.

Wayne sneered. "And I should take the advice of someone who thinks the Chudley Cannons are the greatest team around. They've got the best logo around. Two big zeroes."

"They're Cannonballs," Ron replied angrily. "And they don't bribe the judges."

"Puddlemere never stooped that low," Wayne shouted.

"They'd have to stand up to stoop," Ron shouted back.

"I really do not care much for Quidditch," Charlie said casually.

"What are you talking about,?" Wayne said at the sudden interruption.

"You're talking about the best game in the world," Ron insisted.

"I told you it would work," Susan said to Charlie. "Those two are peas in the same pod."

Wayne and Ron both looked sheepish as they backed down. Harry handed his broom to Charlie and wished him luck. Then all of them headed to the Quidditch pitch. By the time they arrived the argument was forgotten, and Ron and Wayne were discussing who looked good for the World Cup.

Charlie walked out across the pitch with Susan, and looked back to see at least two dozen students and a half dozen teachers in the stands. He spied Hagrid who gave him an energetic wave and a thumbs up. "Diggory wanted to keep this quiet?" he asked.

Susan nodded. "If we did this after breakfast, the stands would be full."

Cedric walked up to them and looked at Charlie's broom. "It pays to have rich relatives."

"Harry only loaned it to me."

"Do you know the rules?"

Charlie sighed. "My brother and his friends explained everything to me last weekend. I have watched Harry practice twice and, if that was not enough, Wayne told me more than I needed to know. He is also the one who told me how to fly a broom. If you do not believe me, you can ask him."

Cedric laughed with him. "Wayne Hopkins had a good heart, but he does get 'overly enthusiastic'."

"What do I do now?" Charlie asked.

"Fly around for a bit to loosen up," Cedric said. "Then we'll see what you can do."

Cedric then signaled for the other Hufflepuff hopefuls to mount their brooms. The false dawn was just giving way to the morning sunrise when Charlie kicked off the ground. When they were all in the air, Cedric started assigning positions. "We'll try playing with the quaffle for a bit. As most of you know, Eleanor Branston and I are the only team members left from last year, and we've only filled one position so far." He nodded to Susan Bones. "I'm the team seeker, unless," this time he nodded to Charlie, "someone else shows better promise for the job. We need another chaser, two beaters and a keeper." He held up the quaffle. "Charlie, show me what you can do with this."

Cedric tossed the quaffle to Charlie, expecting him to take it and fly toward the hoops. Instead, Charlie swung his broom around to knock the quaffle back to Cedric.

"He's a footballer," one of the muggle-borns shouted.

Cedric looked at the boy who yelled the remark, trying to remember what he knew of the sport. "Charlie, get by the hoops." When Charlie was in position, Cedric nodded to Eleanor, and the two flew toward the other goal. As they flew back, they kept passing the quaffle back and forth, until Eleanor made a feint and threw for one of the goals. Charlie was there, caught the quaffle this time, and tossed it back to Cedric.

"Who's trying for Chaser?" Cedric called out. He kept Charlie at the hoops while each potential chaser tried their luck. Two hours later, he called for everyone to land.

"What happens now?" Charlie asked.

"We go to breakfast," Cedric said. "I'm starving."

"But I did not try out for Seeker."

"That's because you became our Keeper after five minutes of practice."

Charlie stopped. "I am on the team?"

* * *

Sunday breakfast was always a scattered affair. Students would wander in and out rarely with any pattern. This was why Colin decided to break precedent and went to sit with the Hufflepuffs.

"He's off on his own again, Harry," Hermione noted.

Harry nodded. "I think he's going to talk to Charles." Ron and Hermione noted the wistful tone in his voice.

"That must be why you insist he hang around," Ron noted. "He always has the good ideas."

"What?"

"Come on," Hermione said as she grabbed Harry's arm. "We'll force them to let you sit next to Charles. Sorry, now it's Charlie."

"But that's not our table," Harry said without conviction as he happily went along with the decision.

"We'll leave if anyone complains . . . a lot."

* * *

"I'm sorry all of you couldn't make it on the team," Cedric was saying. "I'm surprised at how difficult it was to decide who to pick."

Susan nudged Charlie. "As long as he picked us, we don't care."

"That's the spirit, Susan," Cedric said as he heard the remark. "You would have hated everyone if you weren't picked, so snub them since you were."

"Nonsense," Susan said without offense. "I am more than happy to consoles those who didn't make the team. It's that I'm too happy that I did make the team to feel any sympathy."

Justin Finch-Fetchly smirked. "I know what you mean. I'm too upset that I didn't make it that I don't believe any of you care."

"You should not say that," Charlie offered. "We still need good backup. What if Susan were to get her foot caught in her mouth and could not get it out?"

"How dare you," Susan said in mock anger. "The only problem I have with putting my foot in my mouth is getting my knee past my front teeth."

"Do you know why I like you," Charlie replied. "You are always proud of your accomplishments."

"And you should move over," Susan answered smiling.

"Have I offended you?"

"Maybe, but your brother wants to sit down."

Charlie looked up and saw Harry. He moved over to make room.

"Welcome to Hufflepuff, Potter," Cedric said as Harry and his friends sat down. "Is this a visit or are you planning on staying?"

"We're just lazy," Harry said. "We couldn't be bothered to walk all the way to our own table."

Cedric looked at the Gryffindor table which was about five feet behind Harry. "It is a great distance." He looked over to where Ron Weasley and Wayne Hopkins were talking about the World Cup again. "If they start arguing, you have to leave."

"As long as we don't have to take them with us," Hermione said from the other side of Susan. Ron and Wayne looked up as everyone laughed. Wayne muttered something to which Ron nodded his agreement and they went back to talking. Harry looked over to Cedric when Colin suddenly appeared and his camera flashed.

"I am blind," he heard Charlie say as the black spots swam before his own eyes.

Harry laughed. "I need to ask, did you make the team."

"Of course, I did," Charlie answered. "I could not get the position that permitted me to chase the little ball but I did get the position where everyone throws the big ball at me."

"You mean they made you their Keeper."

"Keeper?" Charlie said in surprise. "Cedric, does that mean I get to keep the quaffle if I catch it."

"Only the bludgers. You have to give the quaffle back."

Harry smiled as twin eyes smiled back at him. "You're the Keeper."

"It is fitting," Charlie said. "We can compete against each other without trying to show each other up."

Cedric finished talking with his new beaters and turned to Hermione while Harry and Charlie talked. "I'm glad you joined us today. We wanted to talk to you."

"We?" Hermione asked as she and Susan paused in their conversation.

"Our house," Cedric said. "When we undertake a big project, we like to get everyone involved. We've decided that Charlie is a second year, and he needs to be tutored for all the things he missed."

"And you want me to help."

Susan smiled. "That's a good choice, Cedric. You'd be perfect, Hermione. You are the smartest student in our year."

"I can't tutor him in everything."

"You don't have to," Cedric said. "But you know everything Charlie would need to know. Choose your best subject and tutor him in that, or better yet, give us an outline of what he needs to know."

"That wouldn't be hard," Hermione said. "For Charms, it's simply a list of spells. Transfiguration is the toughest. I'll have to talk to McGonagall about that. Potions is just another list. He doesn't need to learn to fly a broom. For History he can read the books . . ."

"You'll do it?" Cedric asked.

"I think she's already started," Eleanor Branston said from where she was listening.

Hermione blushed slightly. "I'll have the outlines for you by dinner."

"Thanks, Granger," Cedric said sincerely. "And you're welcome to join us any time."

"I'll join you for dinner then. It will make it easier to explain anything if you have questions."

"Then you should talk to Ernie MacMillan or Megan Jones. It was Megan's idea so she has to take charge, and Ernie is taking charge for the boys since he's in the same year as Charlie."

"I'll see them at dinner then."

* * *

Colin was sitting in front of the fire place watching the flames when Harry sat down next to him.

"You changed the world today, Colin. Or at least a corner of it."

"How?"

"Remember at breakfast, you sat with the Hufflepuffs."

"You did that," Colin said. "I only wanted to ask Charles if he made the team. I wasn't planning on staying."

Harry was surprised. "I guess I thought you were doing what I wanted to do. That's why we followed you."

Harry was amused at the thought that it was him instead of Colin. At dinner, Hermione excused herself when they entered and went to sit with two of the Hufflepuffs at their table. Then Wayne Hopkins showed up at their table with a book on Quidditch that he had offered to lend Ron.

"It was Wayne Hopkins," Harry said suddenly. "He's the one that did it."

"Excuse me," Colin asked.

"He's the one that changed things, assuming they stay changed. Hermione sat at their table to discuss Charles' tutoring. Wayne sat at our table just to have a conversation."

"It's only once."

Harry nodded. "What happened once could happen again." He smiled to himself. Others might think it unusual that he and his brother ate their meals together, but not that unusual. This small change could be a good thing.

"Maybe we all changed it," Colin said suddenly.

"Maybe we did," Harry agreed.


	5. Progress

Chapter Five: Progress

Doctor Pantely looked down at his patient.

"Have you had any untoward memories?"

Remus Lupin smiled at the question. "Only of the pain of transition. I don't think you can completely prevent that. Your latest potion did nothing more to ease the pain, but I have learned to deal with it." His voice was tinged with excitement. "When I changed this last full moon, I was aware the entire time. I remember being the wolf but I did not have the wolf's passion. I could control my actions completely. I believe it would have been completely safe for anyone to come near me."

Pantely beamed at these words. "I will contact my other patients immediately. If I get the same results with them, I will file an official report."

Remus looked up as his friend and doctor. "Xavier, this has been more than I hoped for."

Pantely nodded. "And less than I have strived for. I will find a permanent cure. I promise you."

"Xavier," Madam Pomfrey said as she walked up. "I have Charles Potter waiting outside."

"Send him in, Poppy. No, wait a minute." He handed her a parchment. "This is the potion that Remus will need. If I can't be here at the end of the month, please see that he gets this."

Pomfrey smiled as she took the parchment. "You've made progress?"

"Enough to do the final tests. It is no cure, yet."

Madam Pomfrey left and returned shortly with young Charles. She left him with the Doctor and returned to her other tasks.

"Good Afternoon, Doctor, Uncle Remus."

Pantely looked at his friend. "Uncle?"

Remus smiled. "It's a term of familiarity. I did object, but not very hard. He and Harry have taken to visiting me at least once a week. I've told them so much about their family they consider me part of it."

Pantely turned to the boy. "You may have as many relatives as you wish, as long as I remain your doctor."

"Yes sir," Charlie said, with almost a smile. "Should I lie down now?"

"I've only examined you twice and you already have the routine down? You must be smart. On the bed with you."

Charles lay down on the bed and closed his eyes. Remus assured him, as he did the last time, that there was nothing to worry about. Doctor Pantely performed his spell and Charles waited patiently. After fifteen minutes he was told to get up.

"Have you had any memories surface?"

"No, Sir. Not that I have noticed. I did have one problem but I do not know if it is important."

"Let's here it. If it's important, it's best you tell me. If it isn't, it's best you know."

"My hair, Sir. I have been letting it grow because it felt more comfortable."

"I remember Madam Pomfrey telling me about your comment."

"It seems, Sir, I would feel more comfortable now if I did not let it grow too long."

Pantely smiled at the comment. "I may be wrong but I think you are beginning to fit in. We guessed that longer hair was common where you used to live. Now that you are here, you are adjusting to the fact that most students prefer shorter hair. I suggest you keep your hair as long or short as you like."

"I thought that might be the truth of it, Sir, but," Charles paused as he began to recite the now old joke, "but I did not remember."

"That does it. Out with you," Pantely yelled in mock anger, and laughed as the boy ran off grinning.

"He is fitting in," Remus mentioned.

"He'll be fine," Pantely assured him. "That curse is still weakening, but it is also taking its time. I am willing to say that he should be free of it sometime after the Christmas holiday. Then we can get our answers."

"There is nothing to do but wait," Lupin acknowledged. "Two months is not a long time."

"And now I must return to St. Mungo's, Remus. Have a happy Hallowe'en."

* * *

Charles gazed out over the lake where the Giant Squid lived.

"What exactly is a Death Day party?" Charlie asked his brother.

"It's our house ghost, Sir Nicholas. He was killed 500 years ago this Hallowe'en."

"I am happy for him, Harry, but why are you going?"

"I owe him a favor. Ron and Hermione are coming, too."

"And you would like me to come as well?"

"Um, you don't have to, Charlie. I wanted to let you know why I won't be at the feast. I didn't want you to worry about me."

"You are going to a party in the dungeons with hundreds of ghosts, and you are telling me this so that I will not worry about you? Harry, tell me how you define worry. Are you dragging Colin with you?"

Harry grinned widely. "He invited himself. He wants to take pictures of the party or else his family won't believe him."

After they stopped laughing, Harry told him something else. "Hermione wanted me to tell you. She showed Snape everything she taught you. He's going to give you a final for first year potions."

Charlie frowned. "All Hermione did was make me memorize the potions and how they are supposed to be made. I have never made any of them."

"You've made potions in class. These are first year potions. They'll be easy for you. Besides, you're good at memorizing things. I've never been able to remember half that stuff."

"Hermione is an excellent tutor. But I doubt that Snape is doing this to be nice. I would wager that Dumbledore said something to him."

Harry grinned. "Colin says you're doing good in Transfiguration."

Charlie rolled his eyes. "He would say that. Ernie MacMillan tells me that I will 'get the hang of it'. I do not know why I agreed to take both classes."

"Because you don't need flying lessons and you had that time free. Be thankful you're not with the Slytherins."

Charlie nodded. Because he did not have lessons with Madame Hooch in his free period Professor McGonagall had him take both first and second year Transfiguration. She also told him not to worry about how well he did in his second year class. He was not taking her advice.

Professor Flitwick was also treating him as a special student and personally volunteered to be his Charms tutor, saying he had never tried to teach a student on a one to one basis. He was tutored two nights a week which gave him back the free period that Professor McGonagall filled, but took away two of his nights. The rest of his nights were still free. Cedric had the habit of practicing for an hour a day before breakfast

"Professor Dumbledore told me I am up to date on my History. Fortunately, I love to read. I think History must have been my favorite subject."

Harry eyed his brother curiously. "Must have been?"

"I doubt I ever had a Professor like Binns before. He makes the most exciting things seem mundane. I was bored by his lecture on the goblin wars."

"Is that what he was talking about?" Harry asked, and both boys laughed.

* * *

"I declare myself full," Charlie said, as the feast came to an end.

"You ate enough," Susan chided him. "I told you not to stuff yourself."

"I could not help it. There were so many new things to try. I promise you and myself I will show greater discretion at the next feast."

"Can you move?"

"Only if I have to."

Susan playfully hit his arm. "You have to. The Hall's almost empty. If we don't leave now, we'll have to stay for breakfast."

Charles stood up. "I do not believe I could deal with breakfast."

They walked out of the Hall and took the stairs to the Hufflepuff common room. They looked up and saw the crowd of students the next flight up and decided to take a detour. It was no surprise that they were the first ones, but as time went on, both realized that no one else had come back yet.

"Charlie, you know how everyone was standing around?"

"Do you think something happened?"

"Definitely. I was thinking of going back to check."

"Would you like company?"

Susan grinned. "I'd love some."

They walked to the entranceway and stepped out.

"There he is," someone shouted from the end of the hall to someone in the other corridor. Then he began to run toward them.

"Anthony?" Susan asked. "What's going on?"

"It's Harry Potter. He killed Filch's cat."

Charlie and Susan looked at him with amused disbelief.

"That could be considered a good thing," Susan said jokingly.

"Filch caught him," Anthony Goldstein replied.

"That would be considered a bad thing," Charlie noted.

"It gets worse," Anthony said. "Above the cat someone wrote 'The Chamber of Secrets has been opened'. They wrote it in blood."

By this time a small crowd of Hufflepuffs had gathered and were agreeing with Anthony.

Charlie cleared his throat and everyone looked at him expectantly. "I know I am not an authority on anything, in view of my condition, but have any of you considered the fact that today is Hallowe'en?" He smiled as he saw several confused faces, and a couple who had a hint of what he was about to suggest. "Susan, correct me If I am wrong, but I would have thought this was a prank."

Susan nodded. "Gryffindors are notorious for things like that. And your brother's best friend IS one of the Weasleys."

Cedric Diggory, standing in the back, laughed at the suggestion. "If you're right, Charlie, then Harry really is in trouble. That prank looked very real."

Charlie nodded. "I will ask tomorrow what happened. It will not be as much fun as the rumors but we will know the truth."

After they were back inside a now crowded common room, Cedric cornered Charlie again. "You're his brother. Do you know why Harry didn't show up at the feast?"

"He went to another party," Charlie said, and everyone started whispering.

"What Party?" Cedric asked.

"Their House Ghost. He died 500 years ago, today. He was throwing a party in one of the dungeons and he invited all of his friends, including Harry."

Cedric nodded. "That would drive me mad enough to take a swing at Filch's cat while he was watching."

"Colin Creevey was with him."

"The shutterbug?" Cedric asked. "That would give me two reasons."

* * *

"I didn't do anything," Harry insisted. He continued to try to eat his breakfast.

"I did not accuse you of anything," Charlie told him. "I am only letting you know some of the rumours that are going around. I personally thought the entire thing was a prank that went wrong."

"Mrs. Norris is Petrified," Harry said with great seriousness.

"She is only a cat," Charlie replied. "A few soothing words should help to calm her."

"Charlie?" Harry looked as though he wanted to laugh. "I meant that as a literal statement." He paused at he thought about what he said. "I've been hanging around you too much. I'm beginning to use those big words too."

"She's been turned to stone? And you should be proud to extend your vocabulary."

"Dumbledore says she can be cured, but do you really mean that I should be happy that I can be verbose. There! You see!" Harry said in a mixture of anger, humor and frustration. "I actually used the word verbose in a sentence."

"And you used it correctly, I might add. But what about the Chamber of Secrets?"

"It's open," Harry answered, then turned to Ron who was listening the entire time. "What do you think of all this?"

"I've decided, Harry. Charlie isn't your twin brother. He's Hermione's."

* * *

"Did you tell him?" Hermione asked later, as they sat in the library.

"No," Harry said petulantly. "I don't want my brother thinking I'm crazy."

"Harry, you should trust him with this because he is your brother. It's only a matter of time before he has his own problems to deal with. He'll need to know he can trust you."

"You're right, Hermione, but I can't do it. Not yet. I've been thinking about what Professor Binns told us about the Chamber and the Heir of Slytherin. I think I know who it might be."

"Malfoy," Hermione said.

Harry nodded. "Ron's already reached the same conclusion. We're going to try and prove it. That's why I don't want to tell Charlie. I'm in enough trouble with Filch, and if something goes wrong with my plan, well, I don't want him to get hurt. I'm actually glad, for the first time, that he isn't in Gryffindor."

Hermione sat back thoughtfully. "And your plan is?"

"I thought I'd try to talk to Malfoy and see if he lets something slip."

"Why don't you get him away from Crabbe and Goyle and beat him until he tells you what you want to know."

"That was Ron's plan."

Hermione shook her head. "Let me think about it. I might be able to find something in the library."

Harry smiled. "Thanks, Hermione."

"You know, Harry, you could have simply asked me if I had any ideas."

* * *

"Well?" Ernie MacMillan asked as they left the Great Hall for their first class.

"It is worse than we thought," Charlie told him. "It turns out Harry was the first one to find Mrs. Norris, although Colin Creevey did take a picture."

"Then the rumors are all wrong."

"Not all of them."

Charlie repeated to Ernie what Harry had said to him. The rumors about Harry were already ebbing as the word spread. Then the word came back about Professor Binns' class. Hermione Granger had asked about the Chamber of Secrets, and Binns had answered her questions.

* * *

It was the first Saturday of December and the winter cold had arrived during the night. Charlie Potter was wearing his yellow and brown Quidditch uniform for his first game and watching his own breath form clouds in front of him. Harry's broom was firmly in his hand as he gazed over at the stands where the Gryffindors sat. He waited for the flash of light that did not come. No one would be taking his picture for a long while.

("He's only petrified," Professor Sprout had assured the Hufflepuffs. "It's only a matter of time before he's as good as new.")

Madam Hooch ordered everyone to mount their brooms. Charlie looked at the Gryffindor stands and saw Harry wave. Hermione and Ron were holding a banner saying, "Go Potter." It was a useful banner and could be used at almost every Quidditch match. Then the whistle blew and Charlie's thought were elsewhere.

He flew up toward the hoops and took his position. Eleanor Branston had hold of the quaffle and was trying to catch the Ravenclaw keeper off guard. It almost worked. At the last minute she made a well-practiced pass to Susan Bones who had the pleasure of making the first score for Hufflepuff. The Ravenclaws took possession and made a quick run at Charlie. A well-hit bludger forced him to move out of position but he was prepared. He left the far left hoop unguarded, then made a feint to cover his mistake. It worked. The Ravenclaw chaser threw the quaffle at the far right hoop as Charlie made a sudden change of direction. The quaffle ended up back in Eleanor's hands. And the game continued.

For an hour and a half, Charlie went from sitting on his broom to racing around protecting the hoops. Five times the quaffle made it past him, but the Ravenclaw keeper had twice that many pass her. The difference was that she was pacing herself, while Charlie was getting tired. Of the goals against him, two were in the last ten minutes. Suddenly Cedric flashed past him heading downwards. He pulled up, holding the golden snitch in his hand, and the whistle blew again.

Charlie heard the cheering before it sank in. Susan flew up to him and laughed.

"Is it over?"

"Charlie?" she laughed again. "You sound disappointed."

"Tired. I don't think I could have lasted much longer."

They flew down and landed with the rest of the team as the crowd applauded them.

"You have to pace yourself better," Cedric told him, then asked how he felt.

"That was nothing like practice. I want to do this again."

"You'll have two more chances, Charlie."

"He tried to tell me he was tired," Susan told Cedric. "He sounded so sad when I told him the game was over."

"Then I'm sad, too," Atticus Hart, the new beater said. "I'm so sad I could sleep for a week."

Charlie laughed with the others then paused as a far away look came across his face. Eleanor noticed the change. "What's on your mind, Charlie?"

"I was thinking . . . It was nothing."

"Did you remember something?"

"No, but I had a feeling. It was as though I was seeing everything from a different point of view. But that does not describe it very well."

Eleanor squeezed his shoulder with affection. "I think you almost remembered something."

"Almost? I hope you are right."

"Promise me, if you do remember anything, you'll let me know first thing."

"Done and done, Eleanor."

"Good, now let's get cleaned up and ready for dinner."

"That is a wonderful idea."

* * *

"You were great," Wayne said for the third time.

"You make it sound like I was the only one playing."

"It isn't you," Justin explained, "It's your brother. Now that you've proven to everyone you can play, they're already talking about when we play Gryffindor."

"Is Harry that popular?"

"I wouldn't say popular," Ernie commented.

Charlie took exception to his attitude. "Ernie, think about it. If Harry is the Heir of Slytherin, then so am I. I find it odd that neither of us is in Slytherin if that is true."

"You don't have the scar."

"I do not need a scar. I have a brain, and by using it I have discovered a great truth. You are paranoid."

Ernie's face tinged as the other Hufflepuffs laughed. "I hope you're right, Charlie, for all our sakes." He smiled thinly and said, "Your ears have stopped smoking."

Charlie's face tinged in turn as he remembered the potion Madam Pomfrey had forced on him and the other players. It didn't help that everyone was laughing at that remark as well.

* * *

Time continued to advance.

"Harry?"

"Good Morning, Charlie."

"You look happier now that everyone has left for the holiday."

"Does it show?"

"As clearly as sunlight on snow."

Harry laughed as he looked out over the lake. "There's enough snow out here to prove your point." He frowned, then turned to his brother. "Do you belief the rumors about me? After all, I am a parselmouth."

"No, Harry, I do not believe the rumors. I know you and I know Justin. You would never have attacked him, for any reason."

"Even if I didn't know I was doing it?"

"You mean the voices you hear?"

Harry looked surprised.

"Colin had told me," Charlie explained. "That is how I know. If you would not attack Colin knowingly, after all the times he had annoyed you, you would not attack anyone."

Harry rubbed his scar thoughtfully. "I hope you're right."

"I know I am, and so do you."

In an emotional scene which would have reduced Hagrid to tears, the two hugged each other. "Thanks, Charlie."

"What are brothers for?"

The two boys walked back to the castle, talking but not really saying anything. As the entered the main hall, Harry turned and said, "Um, Charlie."

Charles smiled. "Are you running off again?" He waved his brother away. "I will be fine. I have a few things of my own to do, anyway."

"I'll see you at dinner." Harry promised, and ran to meet Ron and Hermione.

Charles turned and walked the other way, to return to his house to wrap his gifts. Ernie MacMillan and Wayne Hopkins had to explain Christmas to him and, thanks to Cedric Diggory, he had managed to get presents.

It was ironic, Charlie thought. Christmas seemed familiar and strange at the same time. He knew the holiday. He had celebrated it every year but in a way he did not remember. At least the idea of giving gifts had seemed familiar. He strained at his thoughts to no avail. No memories came to mind.

"OY." A loud shout came to his ears. Charlie looked up to see Draco Malfoy and his friends waiting at the end of the hallway near the stairs.

"He heard that," Malfoy laughed with Crabbe and Goyle. "Must have been daydreaming about what pretty toys he'll get."

"I have no business with you, Malfoy." Charlie said, remembering past encounters. Malfoy always talked but rarely did anything else.

"I have business with you, Potter," Malfoy said, blocking his path.

Charlie sighed, as though to say he was not worried. Then he said flippantly, "I know. My brother is the Heir of Slytherin and he is going to destroy the school."

Draco Malfoy snorted. "At least you don't believe that nonsense either. It shows that you have hope."

Charlie arched his eyebrow. "Could you explain that remark?"

Malfoy smiled. Crabbe and Goyle smiled as well as they seemed to relax, although it gave them a look of sinister humor.

"You have an advantage, Charles Potter, that your brother does not. You have no preconceived notions. Prejudice is based on past experience and you, thankfully, do not have any."

"And your point is?" Charlie asked more out of curiosity.

"I've never had a chance to talk to you before, and I know what your brother says about me. I've said most of the same things about him. You may laugh but I honestly think we could be friends if we had a chance to know each other properly." Draco held out his hand. "I could be a good friend. I'll even refrain from criticizing your brother and his poor choice of mates, if that bothers you."

Charlie looked at the proffered hand. "It does bother me, Malfoy. But I cannot take you for a friend. I do know you. I have seen how you treat others. You are arrogant with your friends as well as your enemies. Could you put your arrogance aside?"

Draco tried to keep his composure as Charlie's tone of disapproval became obvious. "I think you mistook my pride in my family for arrogance. We have to let others know where we stand. There is no reason to play at being humble the way that you do."

"I do not understand. Why do you think I am pretending to be humble? What do I have to be humble about? By the same form, what do I have to be proud about?"

Malfoy snorted. "You don't know? You honestly don't know?" He laughed as Charlie looked even more confused. "This is rich. I get to be the one who tells Harry Potter's brother the truth about his family."

"What is it?" Charlie said hesitantly, unsure of what to expect.

Malfoy gave him a friendly smile. "I want you to understand that I'm talking to you as one pureblood to another. I don't want you to think I'm talking down to you."

A thought emerged in Charlie's brain as Malfoy said that. It did not matter what he said. The two of them could never be friends despite their common ground. Malfoy's comment struck a cord inside him. He could understand that there would be different classes of wizards and even that they would be based on heredity. After all, the children of powerful wizards and witches would also be powerful. But that was where he and Malfoy parted in their views.

Charlie smiled. "Draco, I would never talk down to you. Even if you were the lowliest churl."

Draco's smile became forced. "Now I have to ask what you mean?"

"I told you before. You are arrogant. With your friends as well as your enemies. I would not choose to be in either camp, but if I must, I will never choose to be your friend."

Draco's smile turned easily to a scowl. "I tried to be decent to you," he sneered as he backed away.

Too late, Charlie realized Malfoy was giving himself room. The Slytherin drew his wand before the Hufflepuff could react. As the blond haired boy shouted his curse, the black-haired boy made a quick but complicated gesture with his hand.

Malfoy thrust his wand forward and there was a flash of light that did nothing. He pulled back his wand and suddenly thrust it forward again but nothing happened. Again he pulled back his wand then thrust it forward. And again. And again.

His friends tried to stop him but Crabbe was poked in the stomach for his efforts, and Malfoy was now sneering angrily at the wall and stabbing at it with his wand instead of down the corridor at Charlie. Crabbe and Goyle started running down the stairs screaming for help.

"What's all this racket?" Filch yelled as he came running into view. The two pointed to the top of the stairs.

"It was Potter. He attacked us with his wand."

Filch looked up in anger, then paused. "You're the other one. Finally decided to try a few of you brother's tricks." He walked up the staircase and stared at Malfoy. "What did you do?"

"Nothing, Sir. At least I do not think I did?"

Filch looked around. "It looks like he's not going anywhere. You two fetch Madam Pomfrey for your housemate. And you, Potter, will come with me. It's time to see the headmaster."


	6. Christmas

Chapter Six: Christmas

Draco Malfoy awoke in the infirmary, much to his own surprise. Even more surprising was the presence of a strange doctor.

"What happened to me?"

Xavier Pantely was not in a kind mood. "To be blunt, you attacked a fellow student who countered your curse with a shielding spell."

"I never attacked anyone."

Dr. Pantely laughed at the boy. "I examined your wand. I know the last spell you cast. And I know your last statement was a brazen lie."

"He provoked me," Draco said defensively.

"Possibly." Dr. Pantely made it obvious he did not believe Draco. "Your friends also said the same thing after being caught in a similar lie, while the boy you attacked is remaining closemouthed about what he did. As things stand, the matter will end here as long as there is no repetition. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir," Malfoy said with oily ease. "In the future I will ignore Potter's taunts." He paused. "May I ask who you are? And what happened to Madam Pomfrey?"

"I am Doctor Pantely. I am an old friend of your headmaster. He informed me of your case since I was in the area and I came immediately to observe your condition. Curing Curses is a specialty of mine."

Draco frowned. "I've heard of you. You work with werewolves. What happened to me that was so interesting?"

"You honor me with your knowledge." Pantely said. "And you were not as interesting as you sounded. The result from the backlash of your spell put you in a time loop. You kept repeating the last second before you were struck. All I had to do was cancel the spell."

"I was in a time loop?" Draco was already thinking of how he could make this sound impressive on his own behalf.

"You might be curious to know that, as a result, you will probably live four hours longer than you would have otherwise."

Amused at the thought, Draco thanked the doctor with minimal politeness and left the infirmary. He would have to eat a late dinner but other than that he foresaw no problems with his reputation.

Dr. Pantely watched him leave, then went to the headmaster's office where three people were waiting for him.

"Xavier?" Dumbledore asked as he entered.

"The boy is fine, but I did have a chance to examine the spell before I cancelled it." Pantely eyed Charles Potter as he said this. "The spell appeared to be weak, but well crafted. I would be curious to know how it was cast, as you did not use your wand."

"I do not know, Sir," Charles said nervously. "I explained to Professor Dumbledore that I remembered moving my fingers in some kind of pattern but I know I did not say anything."

Dumbledore nodded his head. "It appears to have been a reflex action on the part of Mister Potter. He has always been honest with me in the past and I see no reason to doubt him now."

"Another puzzle," Pantely said with annoyance. "Please, Charles, remember your past soon. I have too many questions to ask you."

"Another puzzle, Sir?" Charles asked.

Madam Pomfrey noted the hesitant looks in the eyes of both men, and frowned. "Albus, He should remember his past soon enough. It might help if we explained a few things to him."

Albus smiled as though relieved. "Thank you, Poppy. That is an excellent idea. Charles, you may consider this as an early Christmas present, or a bad joke. It seems that your doctor has observed another spell similar to the one that you unwittingly cast earlier today."

Charles stared as he understood what that other spell might be. He looked at Dr. Pantely, who explained the situation.

"It seems, Charles, that your memory loss is the result of a curse placed on you by someone. It repressed your memory. It is a very complex spell but it is also very weak. And it is finally falling apart. You could recover your memories as early as this week. At worst, within the month."

"That is good news," Charles admitted.

"Perhaps," Madam Pomfrey said. "There is another problem, Charles. You did suffer a severe shock at the time of your initial memory loss. Your mind may not want to remember what happened. Once we know the curse is completely gone, I want you to talk to either myself or Professor Sprout as soon as you begin to remember anything, however odd or normal it may seem. I've learned that talking is the best way to recover. If you describe your memories, they will come easier. Even the bad memories."

"You've frightened him, Poppy," Pantely said as he noticed Charles' face.

"I'm only being practical," Pomfrey replied. "Memory recovery can be a frightening experience, even if you know what is happening. Memories do not return all at once, except in rare cases."

Albus smiled at Charles. "It is always wise to err on the side of caution, especially when one of our students is involved. Charles, you may go now and please be careful around Draco Malfoy. I do not expect a repeat of today's incident but if it does happen again I will hold both of you responsible."

"Yes, Sir. I understand. And thank you for being honest with me."

"Please note, Charles, that I have not always been honest with you. I did not tell you about the curse. But I have always had your best interests at heart. Are you prepared for Christmas?"

"I still need to wrap my presents, Sir. I will find out the day after tomorrow how well I chose my gifts."

"I am sure you have done fine."

After Charles left, the three adults looked at each other. Dr. Pantely spoke first. "The spell the boy cast was not even as powerful as the curse that was cast on him but it had an interesting feature. It used none of the boy's magic. It gained its strength from the other boy's spell. That is how he managed to create a time loop."

Albus was startled. "Xavier, did you say that the protective spell used the magic from the spell that it deflected? I was not aware such a thing was possible."

"To my knowledge it isn't. Reflecting a spell back on its castor is common enough, but I have never before come across such a case where the spell was altered before it was cast back. Before today I would have said such a thing was impossible. Now I will say that no one knows how to cast such a spell."

Albus rubbed his forehead. "Then we will have to wait, and hope for the best."

* * *

Hermione rose early, before the sun was up. She dressed quickly and went to the common room where Harry and Ron were already waiting. She would have been surprised by this on any other day but it was Christmas. The bags were already packed with the presents and they were off. If their plan worked, they would have been waking Charles within the hour and celebrating Christmas in his common room.

"I wish they would have let Charlie stay in Gryffindor," Ron said. "It would have made everything easier."

"I asked," Harry said, "but there's only one other person in Hufflepuff. It wouldn't be right to leave her there alone."

"They could put all of us together in one house," Hermione noted. "Would either of you mind sharing a room with Malfoy?"

"You made your point," Harry admitted. "Do you know where we are?"

"We're almost there," Hermione said, and pointed at the painting of a snow-covered field. She unfolded a piece of parchment and said, "Mandragora."

All three jumped in surprise when the wall caved in. From their own experience they expected the picture to move. Laughing to themselves, they quietly slipped into the Hufflepuff common room.

"This is nice," Ron said appreciatively. "Harry, this almost feels like home."

"You're right, Ron. At least it feels like your home."

"Could you be quiet?" Hermione said. "Charlie might be able to hear us."

"He's in the chapel, dears," Professor Sprout said suddenly from behind them. "You have plenty of time to get ready." She laughed. "You should see your faces. All three of you must have jumped five feet into the air."

"We didn't expect you," Hermione said, stating the obvious.

"I would blame Cedric Diggory for that. When he asked me if you could come over, I told him specifically to have you talk to me if there were any problems since I would be staying over for the holidays."

* * *

Ron and Hermione busied themselves with placing all the gifts under the tree. Ron noticed there were already some gifts for Charlie there, as well as for the three of them and a girl named Rachel Cauldwell.

"I suppose she's the other one who stayed."

"Now I know whose name to put on the gift."

Ron looked surprised. "You bought a gift for a complete stranger?"

"I didn't want to be rude. After all, this is her house, not ours."

Ron looked chastised at the remark, and picked up one of the gifts he had sat down. He turned the tag around and wrote Rachel's name. As he put it back in the pile, he saw Hermione watching him. "It's only Chocolate Frogs."

"I know she'll love them." The way Hermione said that made Ron feel ten feet tall.

* * *

"Professor Sprout," Harry asked. "You said that Charlie went to the chapel?"

"Yes, with Rachel Cauldwell. She's a fourth year. Her mother came down with magic measles last week and Rachel had to stay at school. It was such a surprise, considering her mother's age. She'll be fine but she can't have any company while she's contagious."

"About the chapel?" Harry asked again.

"No, your brother hasn't remembered anything. And I told him he should have told you. After all, you are his brother. He shouldn't keep any secrets from you."

Harry nodded, fully aware of the secrets he was keeping from Charlie. Such as the potion brewing in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

"I'm sure he had a good reason for not telling me, Professor."

"He told me you would want to come with him if you knew. He wanted to let you sleep late on sundays."

Harry gave Professor Sprout a confused look.

"Mr. Potter, sometimes you are completely hopeless," Professor Sprout said in a huff. "You do understand that there are several students at the school who are Catholic?"

"I never thought about it," Harry said sheepishly.

"Well, Rachel is one of them. Every Sunday, a priest from Beauxbatons visits the school to perform religious services." Sprout huffed again. "Why are you looking cross-eyed at me now?"

"You said the priest came from . . . where."

Sprout smiled in reassurance. "I'm the fool here, Harry. Not you. I've known things all my life. I assumed you did too. Beauxbatons is another school of magic, in France. Naturally, almost everyone at that school is Catholic."

"I should have realized," Harry said softly.

"Not to worry, dear, but let me finish explaining about Charlie. He isn't a Catholic, mind you, but he doesn't remember what religion he was raised in. He just feels comfortable going to the chapel." She laughed slightly. "He told me he feels strange sitting there, as though the priest is doing everything slightly wrong."

Harry nodded thoughtfully and thanked Professor Sprout. He had never had any kind of religious upbringing. The closest he ever came to religion was Uncle Vernon's occasional swears, and even those were rare. It felt strange to think of another difference between him and his brother. He turned around to start setting the presents under the tree, when he noticed the bags were all empty.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have talked so much."

Ron smirked. "You had perfect timing, Harry. Besides, we worked quietly so we could listen in on most of what you were talking about."

"Now all you have to do is wait," Professor Sprout said.

"Wait for what," Charlie asked as he and Rachel walked into the Hufflepuff common room. "Harry?"

"Merry Christmas, Charlie."

Professor Sprout chose this moment to leave discreetly. This was a time for the students.

"Harry, why are you here?"

"We decided to celebrate the holiday with you. We brought all the presents over here."

"Presents?"

Harry smiled, remembering his reaction from the previous Christmas.

"Presents," he said. "For all of us."

Rachel squeezed Charlie's arm. "I'll leave you to your fun."

"You can't do that," Hermione complained. "All of our presents are here. That includes you."

* * *

Rachel and Hermione were laughing out loud. Harry and Ron were wearing their new sweaters from Mrs. Weasley, both were maroon with an H and R respectively. Charlie was wearing a maroon tent with the letter C.

"What is this supposed to be?"

Ron stopped laughing long enough to explain. "That's probably the sweater for my brother Charlie in Romania. I guess Mum mixed up the packages, what with the two of you having the same name."

"I have lost my arms," Charlie said as he tried to pull up a bulky sleeve. He caught Harry's eye and both began to laugh anew.

"What is it now?" Ron asked.

"We were thinking about your brother," Harry laughed. "How he must look wearing his sweater."

"I wager his friends are also rolling on the floor," Charlie added.

In the corner where they were sitting, Rachel commented, "They really are twins. They even think alike."

Hermione agreed. "I'm glad Charlie's in Hufflepuff. If he was in Gryffindor, I'd go mad trying to deal with them and the Weasley twins."

Rachel paused. "Hermione, thank you for making me stay. This was what I needed."

"Chocolate Frogs?"

They started laughing again and the boys just stared at them.

"There's one more gift," Harry said, and ran to the back of the tree. He pulled out a long broom-shaped package and handed it to Charlie. "Remus Lupin helped me get it."

"What could it be?" Charlie asked facetiously. He opened the package and spotted the markings.

"It's only a Nimbus 2000," Harry said. "I can't have you flying a better broom than me. Especially when we play against each other."

"I wouldn't have flown it against you," Charlie said. "If you had given me a faster broom, I would have let Cedric use it against you." He paused. "You shouldn't have. There is no way I can repay you."

"You already have," Harry laughed. "I paid for it out of your half of our inheritance."

"He didn't pay for it at all," Ron said quickly. "Professor McGonagall gave it to him to give to you."

"She bought it for me?"

"All I know," Harry said, in a more serious tone, "is that I saw Remus Lupin give her this broom and then she waved me over. And I know Uncle Remus can't afford it."

Charlie accepted the broom happily. It was a rich gift but the best he could do would be to use it well.

* * *

Charlie walked into the infirmary to be stopped by Madame Pomfrey. "She doesn't want anyone to see her."

"I heard she was here but I was not told why. I came to find out how she is."

"She's going to be fine, but it will take time."

"Could I at least talk to her? You said she did not want anyone to SEE her."

Madame Pomfrey told him to wait, and walked to the partition that was set up. Charlie noted that it was the same partition he had slept behind. Madam Pomfrey came back and told him he could talk, but not for long.

Charlie walked over to the partition. "Hermione."

"I'm here," a sour voice said.

"I came to make sure you were not hurt badly. Harry said there was an accident."

"I'm not hurt at all. It was an accident with a potion I was experimenting with. I made a mistake."

"Oh." Charlie pondered the explanation. "Does that mean you are hiding out of embarrassment? I would hate to think that you looked hideous."

"I don't look hideous," Hermione complained.

"Oh?" Charlie thought it an odd complaint. He heard a strange noise, almost like a growl, then heard Hermione angrily tell him to take a look. Charlie hesitated until Hermione threatened to get out of bed to show him what happened. Gingerly, he looked around the partition and saw something unexpected. Hermione looked liked an oversized kitten forced into a human shape. She even had a tail which was poking out from under the blanket. He made a great effort and managed to keep a straight face.

"You were right, Hermione. This is much worse than being hideous. You are . . . cute."

Charlie hesitated when he heard another strange noise, a rumbling sound. Suddenly he realized that Hermione was laughing. He blushed for no reason and began to laugh as well.

Hermione looked at him with her yellow eyes. "I was ready to claw you the instant you said the wrong thing."

"I was tempted," Charlie admitted, "but now I am merely curious how this happened."

"You know about the Heir of Slytherin," she said. "We were trying to figure out if Malfoy was the Heir, or if he knew who it was."

"He is not, nor does he know," Charlie answered authoritatively.

"How did you know?"

"He told me. He finally cornered me when I was by myself, and tried to talk me into being his friend. He told me the thing he liked best was that I did not believe Harry was the heir. He also admitted that he did not know who the heir was. As it is, the conversation ended badly."

"You never said anything about that."

"You never mentioned the potion."

Hermione nodded her head and her tail swished slightly. "We didn't want you to worry."

Charlie smiled at the comment. "I did not want to frighten you by what I did."

Cat eyes locked themselves on Charlie. "What did you do?"

"I do not know, but Malfoy spent half the day in the infirmary as a result."

"Can you do it again?" Hermione made the laughing noise.

"Truthfully, I do not know. It was a reflex. Apparently I was taught some magic before I came here."

"Then you may know other spells! Charlie if you could remember them, you could be a royal pain to Malfoy, and we would all love you for it."

"If I could remember anything, we would not be having this conversation, regardless of how royal I was. I could turn out to be a vain young wizard and you would not even care to look at me when I walked down the hall."

Hermione smiled. "I would look at you anyway. A cat may look at a king."

"Excuse me?" Charlie asked.

"You were talking about how royal you were. I thought it would be funny to use that euphemism because I'm, well, you know."

"A cat? It is a curious phrase though. I doubt I have ever heard it before."

Hermione paused in thought. Charlie Potter always proved to be an enigma. That phrase, from her experience, was common to both muggles and wizards, yet he said he was not familiar with it. It turns out that he learned magic before he lost his memory, but he was always surprised at every new thing he saw at Hogwarts. She had plenty of time. She would puzzle it out.

For his part, Charlie determined to make it a point to ask Harry about cats and kings.


	7. Remembering

Chapter Seven: Remembering

"I have examined the boy again," Doctor Pantely told the small group. "The curse is gone. I can only assume that the boy's memories have not returned for other reasons."

Madam Pomfrey nodded her agreement, as Albus Dumbledore gave a sigh. "This is exactly the problem I mentioned earlier, Albus. Charles Potter has become used to not remembering his past. On a subconscious level, he does not want to remember. And I do not have to remind you or Minerva of his condition when he was found."

Remus Lupin, the last member of the group, smiled thinly. "Albus described his condition well enough. I can't blame the boy. Charlie has thrived under our care. Why should he bother trying to remember something like that?"

Albus Dumbledore rubbed his forehead. "I should tell all of you that Charlie is becoming a very great problem because of this."

"Is it because of the Chamber of Secrets?" Xavier Pantely asked.

"Exactly so. Rumors are easy to follow but hard to stop. The most popular rumor is that we are not looking for one Heir of Slytherin but two. Charles Potter, the mysterious twin brother of Harry Potter appears under unusual circumstances. One month later, we discover Mrs. Norris petrified. Then we discover Colin Creevey, a close friend of Harry Potter, has been petrified. After that, Harry reveals he is a Parselmouth. This is followed by the petrification of Sir Nicholas, the Gryffindor house ghost, and Justin Finch-Fetchley, a Hufflepuff, who happens to be a close friend of Charles Potter. Then Charlie stops Draco Malfoy from casting a spell with a simple wave of his hand. Add to that the fact that Hermione Granger now has more in common with a house cat than any of our students and you find that I have been having a very bad year."

"I am curious," Remus Lupin asked. "According to the rumors, did they petrify their own friends or each other's? Or are they trying to cover up another secret?"

Albus arched his eyebrows. "Has someone been asking about werewolves?"

"This rumor is coming from Slytherin House. It seems that Draco Malfoy is familiar with Xavier's work."

"Which is no surprise," Pantely added. "I suffer from frequent rants by Lucius Malfoy and his friends that my skills could be put to better uses. In certain circles I am very popular in an unpopular way."

Albus nodded. "We will deal with that problem if and when we need to. Poppy, is there any way we can prod the boy's memory?"

"Put him in contact with something from his past that is familiar. That could provoke a response. Do you have anything?"

Albus sighed again.

* * *

They were in the infirmary. Hermione was almost back to normal, and looked normal except for some yellow in her eyes. Harry was sitting on her bed while Ron was in the chair.

"It's Hagrid," Harry told them. "Tom Riddle revealed everything to me."

Harry told them about his experience with the diary he had found while Ron and Hermione listened intently. They decided to confront Hagrid when Hermione asked a poignant question. "Do you think you should tell Charlie?"

Harry frowned. "I should, but he'll want to join us. And, well . . ."

"You don't want him to get into trouble."

"He gets into enough trouble on his own," Harry said and reminded them of what happened to Draco Malfoy. "He doesn't have to share in my problems."

"Hermione's right," Ron said. "He'll want to be part of this, because it concerns you."

"You don't understand," Harry told them as he cast his eyes to the floor. Touching the scar on his forehead, he added, "a part of me doesn't believe it's Hagrid, at all." He looked up and directly into Ron's eyes. "What if the rumors are true. What if it is me? I could be doing these things and not even realize it. This scar gave me some of Voldemort's power. What if it gave me something else?"

Ron nodded as he understood the point Harry was trying to make, but he held his ground. "It can't be you, Harry. We were with you when you found Filch's cat. You couldn't have done that. That means you didn't do any of those other things."

"Ron's right," Hermione added. "Whoever petrified Filch's cat petrified Colin and Justin and Nearly Headless Nick. You've heard those rumors so often you've begun to believe them." She put her hand on Harry's. "If it helps your conscience, I'll let Charlie know what you're doing. He's stopping by before dinner to give me my homework. This way you can let him know what's going on while keeping him from any danger."

"I'll tell him," Harry said. "I honestly don't believe it's Hagrid. Maybe we should wait. To see what happens."

"You could be right," Hermione noted, with personal relief. "Whoever the Heir is, they must have become scared. That's why they threw away the diary." She paused. "Why don't you come back when Charlie is here?"

"You fancy him," Harry teased.

"He thinks I'm cute," Hermione said with a smirk.

* * *

"Charlie?" Ernie MacMillan walked up to where his housemate was staring out the window.

"Hello, Ernie. I was thinking. Am I late for class.?"

"It's Professor Binns' class. I wouldn't worry."

Charlie grinned at the remark, then turned serious. "Ernie, could I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"It is about the rumors about Harry and myself."

"I wouldn't worry about half of those rumors," Ernie assured him.

"I know you suspect Harry," Charlie said, then paused. "I think I know who the Heir of Slytherin really is."

Ernie failed to hide his amazement. "Who is it?"

Charlie gave him a sad look. "I think it is me."

"That's impossible," Ernie replied, trying not to shout.

"Hear me out. This is no idle thought. Think this through with me. Harry was here all of last year and nothing happened. But I appeared suddenly and without explanation. I have no memory of my past, and I told you what Dumbledore said about that. I am admitted as a student and then Mrs. Norris is found, petrified."

"But you were at the feast," Ernie protested.

"Mrs. Norris was found after the feast. No one knows how long she was hanging from the wall sconce. I could have done it, unknowingly, before I went to the feast. It all fits. I am the only unknown factor in the puzzle."

"You were with me and Susan when Justin was attacked," Ernie pointed out. "We left him in the common room and the three of us were together the entire time until we heard the news." He smiled as he made his point. "If you didn't attack Justin, then you didn't attack anyone else."

"Harry was there, too."

"But he left just before they found Justin. Don't forget. Harry is a parselmouth. We don't know what else he can do." Charlie gave Ernie a peculiar look. "Charlie, what is it?"

"I almost had a thought. It was as though I was about to understand something but," he concluded in irritation and disgust, "I swear on the King's name I do not know what it was."

Ernie gave a surprised look. "You swear on the King's name?"

"Excuse me?"

"Charlie, you said that you swore on the KING"S name."

"Why would I say that? I would have sworn on the Queen's name if I were to make such an oath."

Ernie smiled. "What was it you said that Madam Pomfrey told you? That you might say strange things? You're starting to remember."

As they went to the infirmary to let Madam Pomfrey know what had happened, Ernie pointed out that they now had a legitimate reason for missing class.

* * *

"Are you sure, Charlie?" Hermione asked as he and Ernie confronted her.

"I swore an oath on the King's name." Charlie said.

Hermione glanced at Ernie who nodded then turned back to Charlie.

"Why would I say something like that?" Charlie asked happily. "As I told Ernie, I should have sworn on the Queen's name if I were to make such an oath."

"I love the way he talks," Hermione whispered to Ernie just loud enough for Charlie to hear.

Hermione grinned widely. "Charlie, you really are staring to remember."

Ernie shared the smile but it faded as he noticed the other beds around him, the ones that were partitioned off. He looked over at the bed that held Justin and his good humor left him completely. Hermione followed his eyes when he heard Ernie sigh, knowing that he considered Harry responsible for what happened.

"It is ironic," she said. "Justin is in the same bed that Harry was in when they brought Colin Creevey to the infirmary."

Ernie turned and gave a thoughtful look at Hermione. "What so you mean?"

Hermione gave a look of surprise. "Don't you remember? The rogue bludger that broke Harry's arm."

"But why would Harry stay in the infirmary? I broke my ankle on that trick stair, last year, and I was out of here within the hour."

Charlie snorted. "You had Madam Pomfrey heal you. Harry had Loopy Lockhart."

Ernie was honestly curious. "What did he do? It's obvious what he tried to do, from what you said."

"It was an honest mistake," Hermione said defensively, and Charlie began to laugh. Ernie snickered at the reaction but tried to ask his question again. Hermione became offended and refused to answer.

Finally, Charlie answered, "Lockhart removed the bones instead of repairing them. Harry was forced to spend the night while they grew back."

"And it wasn't pleasant," Hermione added. "Madam Pomfrey even warned him it would be painful. That's why he was awake when they brought Colin in."

"I didn't know about that," Ernie admitted.

At his next class with Harry, Ernie apologized for his accusations, admitting that he was upset and looking for an easy target. It was a short but interesting conversation. Harry forgave him easily, pointing out his own doubts and that Ron and Hermione helped correct him. Ernie, in turn, relating how Charlie had the same doubts.

As Harry and Charlie looked at each other, surprised that they shared the same doubts for the same reasons, Hermione commented, "Great Minds think alike." She and Ron smirked, and he added, "And so do you two."

* * *

For four months nothing happened. Then the Easter holidays came and Charlie was faced with an unusual choice. He had to choose a subject he would like for the following year. Susan was in the common room talking to Ernie MacMillan and Megan Jones when he walked up.

"Stumped," Ernie asked and Charlie nodded.

"I have no idea what to take. Professor Flitwick is praising my Charms work but he spent twice as much time with me as with any of his classes. He suggested Arithmancy, but I do not know."

"That is a difficult subject," Susan Bones noted. "The standard rule in Hufflepuff is that anyone who takes that course has to move to Ravenclaw."

Ernie smiled. "That's what Diggory told her when Susan said she was thinking of taking that course."

"I'm going for Muggle Studies," Megan said. "I've met so many muggle-borns that I'm curious how they actually live."

"And it is an easy course," Ernie noted. "I'm thinking of taking that, too. Either that, or I'll write all of my options on pieces of paper and throw them in a hat. Then I can pick one without a problem."

Susan looked up at Charlie. "I'll make a deal with you. We both take Arithmancy and sink or swim together."

"Done and Done," Charlie said.

"You're not getting sweet on each other?" Megan asked mischievously.

Charlie laughed. "That is exactly the type of thing Roger would say."

"Who's Roger?"

Charlie frowned. "I have no idea. But I suspect I will know soon enough."

* * *

The day finally came. The Quidditch match that the entire school had wanted to watch since the first match between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. It was Gryffindor against Hufflepuff but it was commonly referred to as Potter vs, Potter. Both teams were undefeated. The winner of this match would win the Quidditch Cup and, because of the points awarded, the House Cup as well.

Charlie waited to meet Harry by the Great Hall, which was the only reason that Harry was hurrying. As Harry explained on their way to the pitch, the diary he had found was stolen the night before. Susan Bones, who had waited with Charlie asked about the diary when Harry stopped and looked back at the castle.

"Did you hear that?" He exclaimed. "It was loud enough if I could hear it this far from the school. One of you must have heard."

Charlie and Ron were shaking their heads, as was Susan, but Hermione was looking at Harry in surprise.

"Harry, I've just remembered something. I'm going to the library. I'll meet you down by the pitch."

As she ran back to the school, Charlie looked at Harry. "I would bother to ask what is going on, but it is Hermione."

Susan laughed and led the way to the pitch. "Charlie, Maybe she figured out who Roger is."

"Who's Roger?" Harry asked as they approached the pitch.

"My brother," Charlie said casually, then paused to look at a surprised Harry. A knowing look entered his eyes which Harry noticed. In an exchange of looks Harry asked Charlie if he remembered his past and Charlie shook his head no but his look assured his brother that he did remember parts. Harry's response was a look that said it was wonderful, and Charlie's expression was one of gratitude that Harry would feel that way.

Ron broke their concentration by asking. "You have a brother named Roger."

"No," Charlie said, still looking at Harry. "We have a brother."

Before anyone could ask another question, the two brothers, as though by agreement went to join their separate teams. Susan followed Charlie but refused to ask anything. She had to think about the game first, and she knew Charlie well enough to know that was what he was trying to do.

They mounted their brooms, and everyone flew a few practice laps. For fun, Harry and Charlie raced around the pitch, neck and neck on identical brooms. If nothing else they would enjoy the match.

When Madam Hooch told the players to get ready, Charlie flew to his position in front of the hoops. Despite what had happened so recently his only thought now was that Cedric's early morning practices had better pay off. Then the whistle blew and Charlie cleared his mind. Angelina Johnson grabbed the quaffle and became the most important person in Charlie's world. She flew directly at Charlie as though to ram him but as she closed in, Charlie flew directly at her so that she had no room to toss the quaffle. She acknowledged his feint by turning sharply and back-passing the quaffle to her teammate. Charlie did a quick flip on his broom and flew back into position, turning around in time to see the quaffle heading over his head directly for the center hoop.

It was a problem all broom riders had. You could never fly directly up unless you were pointed in that direction, and in cases like this, the keeper rarely had to go far. That is why Charlie had spent many hours, close to the ground, practicing his next move. He literally jumped up on his broom and swatted the quaffle away. For one brief instant he was in the air, but practice payed off. Eleanor Branston had the quaffle for Hufflepuff, and Charlie landed on his feet on his broom. He slid down into his normal flying position as the students and teachers roared their approval at the maneuver. Even Oliver Wood nodded appreciatively, knowing whom Charlie had stolen that move from.

Cedric was taking the time to thank Charlie on his quick move, while Eleanor was uttering a mild curse when her shot was blocked by Wood. She had tried a tricky move of passing the quaffle to Susan Bones who would just as quickly pass it back. Despite being caught facing the wrong way, Wood managed to be in front of the hoop in plenty of time. That was when the whistle blew. The bludgers obediently flew back to their box as did the snitch. Madame Hooch was waving all of the players down.

When both teams were gathered, Madame Hooch informed them. "The match has been cancelled." She turned to the pair of twins in opposing uniforms. "The two of you are to see Professor McGonagall immediately."

"Why?" "What Happened?" Everyone was asking the same questions.

"Quiet," Madam Hooch yelled. "All I have been told is that there was another attack."

Harry looked at Charlie. "Hermione?" And both rushed off the pitch to find Ron waiting for them.

"Do you know what happened?" Ron asked in a tone to show that he knew.

"I'll tell them," Professor McGonagall said as she approached them.

"It's Hermione," Harry said and the Transfiguration teacher nodded.

"It was her, and Penelope Clearwater. They were coming out of the library when they were attacked. I'm so sorry, Ron, Harry, Charles. I know she was a close friend to all of you."

Charlie turned his head when he saw someone. "Professor McGonagall, why is an Armsman here?"


	8. Investigation

PART II: THE EMPIRE

Chapter Eight: Investigation

"Serenissimo Domino Nostro Iohanni Quarto, Dia Gratia, Angliae, Franciae, Scotiae, Hiberniae, Novae Angliae et Novae Franciae, Rex Imperator, Fidei Defensor . . ."

The boy spoke the Latin terms with practiced ease. His Most Serene Majesty, John IV, By the Grace of God, Ruler of England, France, Scotland, Ireland, New England and New France, Defender of the Faith . . .

John IV was from the oldest ruling family in Europe, in a direct male line from Henry II, the first king to bear the name Plantagenet. It was on this day that the boy and the king would meet, and the ruler whose crest bore the Lions and the Lilies would bestow a hereditary fief on its deserving heir. But at this point, the boy stumbled in his prepared recitation.

"Continue, My Lord Roger," the stern man commanded the seven-year-old boy.

"I do not remember the rest, Teacher," the boy admitted, brushing his long brown hair from his face. He involuntarily went to wipe his moist eyes with his sleeve but was quickly stopped. The teacher, with a suddenly softened look, produced a handkerchief, noticing how dull those normally bright green eyes seemed to be.

Lord Roger stood there, as his teacher knelt in front of him, afraid of the entire world. In the course of one day he had become alone, his father and brother lost to him. The burden of grief and duty was often too much for him to bear, and many a lace collar had been ruined by his tears. Only his teacher, Sir William, was able to distract him from his personal sorrow, but not on this day.

On this, the thirtieth day of September, Ano Domino One Thousand Nine Hundred Seventy Eight, Lord Roger de Somerset, Baron Somerset of Mersey, as his father's sole surviving heir, would be invested as Marquis de London. Everything on this day would remind him of the family he had lost, but he would have to bear the weight of all of this because it was his duty.

Sir William smiled at his student in an effort to help him keep control. "Think only about going through the motions, My Lord. It will be easier. You must be brave today. You must do your family proud."

"This should be Robert's day, not mine."

Sir William inwardly cringed at the mention of the boy's brother. Only a bloodstain on the floor of an abandoned warehouse told of his fate. The days of not knowing and then the confirmation of their worst fears. And all of this forced on a boy barely seven years of age. He hugged the boy, and broke protocol. "Be strong this day, Roger. Remember that Lord Robert watches you from his seat in heaven."

The King's Messenger knocked on the door and Sir William opened it.

"It is time."

"I am ready," Lord Roger of Mersey said, in a tone that briefly reflected that of his father. With suddenly dry eyes, he followed the King's Messenger. He would return to this room as Marquis.

* * *

Master Forensic Sorcerer Sean O'Lochlainn lifted his tankard and drank deeply. Across from him, deep in thought sat Lord Darcy, Chief Criminal Investigator to His Highness, the Duke of Normandy.

"You are troubled, Milord," the Sorcerer said as he sat the tankard down. "You have not touched your drink."

"I was thinking about my nephew. He was quite the young lord today."

Sean O'Lochlainn nodded. The Marquis de London was not Lord Darcy's nephew. They were actually second cousins once removed. The term was more a familial reference because of the difference in age.

"My Lord Marquis does need to know he has family. Despite your differences, you were very close to his late father, Milord. Is that why you are troubled?"

Lord Darcy gave a wry smile. "You know me too well, Master Sean. I am troubled because I dared to read the report on the death of the late Marquis, as well as the report on the late Lord Robert Cahill. The Marquis died of natural causes, that is obvious, but there are several inconsistencies in the report concerning his son."

"The fact that they did not find the body, Milord?" As Lord Darcy arched an eyebrow, Sean gave a smile of his own. "I must admit that I did read the reports as well. I was curious how death was determined in the case of the late Lord Robert Cahill. The chirurgen's argument was well thought out. Based on the facts, I would agree with him."

"Would you?" Lord Darcy asked. "I suppose so. The sorcerer, Janos Proust, was also killed. That is beyond doubt, but it makes me wonder. Why, Master Sean, would the murderers make the effort to dispose of the body of the boy, yet do nothing about the man?"

"A lack of time, I suppose. The Armsmen had the building nearly surrounded."

Lord Darcy smiled. "Yes, nearly. And the important figures were able to make their escape. Please understand that I mean no disservice to the Armsmen of Cambridge. Indeed, if the lady in charge of this group is whom I think she is, the Captain of the Guard should be praised for his efforts for nearly catching her."

Master Sean smiled. "If I am correct, she is the same woman that managed to escape from you at one time."

"Do you mean Olga Polovski? There you are mistaken on that point. But this woman was her prize pupil." Lord Darcy smiled at a memory. "But let us return to the argument about removing the boy's body. I ask you again, why bother? If you can not hide both bodies, why remove one? There is an answer here but I do not see it."

Master Sean drank from his tankard as he pondered these thoughts. "It has been a while since I have taken a vacation, Milord."

"Am I that obvious, Master Sorcerer?"

"I know you too well, My Lord. You have that look about you. You will not be satisfied until you have the answers to all of your questions."

Lord Darcy nodded. "I have already resolved to take a leave of absence, to be ready should the new Marquis need any aid. I think I will spend some time looking up old friends." My Lord of Arcy stood up. "Forgive me, Master Sean. I will leave you to happier company."

"Until tomorrow, My Lord."

* * *

Lord Bontriomphe currently held the title of saddest man in London. He was Chief Investigator for the late Marquis de London. The only person more sad was a young boy who was gently being woken and addressed by his new title.

He nodded his head to Geffrie, and the butler showed the two guests into the office

"My Lord Darcy. Master Sean. I hope you have found London pleasant."

"My Lord Bontriomphe. I always prefer rich London fog to the pale night stars of Normandy."

Master Sean smiled. "Personally, my Lords, I have always preferred English beer to French wine, not that I would refuse either."

"Diplomatically spoken, Master Sean." Lord Bontriomphe said. "Please be seated. Would either of you like anything to drink? Caffe?"

Geffrie, the butler, entered with cups and a pot of caffe, poured the drinks with efficient ease and left, closing the door behind him.

"To business, then?" Lord Bontriomphe asked. "Surely you did not come to console me."

"I will not take up too much of your time, Bontriomphe," Lord Darcy admitted. "I am trying to resolve a few problems of my own. I was wondering, if this is not too difficult a time, if you would relate the events of the Marquis' death."

Lord Darcy did not need to ask if Lord Bontriomphe could remember the details. The late Marquis' Chief Aide was one of those rare people. Although he had no talent, which was not that unusual, he did have an eidetic memory, a very useful ability for an investigator of capital crimes, especially when matched with the deductive abilities of the late Marquis. Lord Darcy would freely admit that his cousin was the only man who could outshine him in that capacity, a facet that was blooming in his late son.

Lord Bontriomphe closed his eyes, recalling the events in detail. "I was sitting in my office reviewing casework files when an Armsman arrived with a message relayed by a teleson call from Cambridge to the main barracks. The time was ten minutes after nine in the morning. I received the message and noted that it was from Sir Mortimer Sheffield who acts as the King's Captain at Arms for the city of Cambridge. I broke the seal and read the contents of the letter, I will repeat the body of the letter, as there was nothing unusual about the heading or the closing:

We have confirmed that Lord Robert de Somerset, Earl of Cahill, while in conversation with his Professor of History was taken forcibly by agents acting under the pay and influence of the Polish Crown. The Professor was killed during this incident. This matter is being acted upon with most urgent measures. Please direct your inquiries to the Royal Naval Intelligence Office.

"There was also a personal message by Sir Mortimer which stated:

I suspect Lord Robert was taken as a hostage. RTI was involved.

"Of course he meant the Royal Thaumaturgical Institute. I may be getting ahead of myself but at the time of the kidnaping of the late Lord Robert, Polish agents also raided the Institute, and stole several objects of research along with various records."

"That would explain the kidnaping, My Lords," Master Sean said. "While anyone may forcibly take something from the Royal Thaumaturgical Institute, he could not hide it. There are too many protective spells. Once removed from the building without proper procedures taken, the thieves could easily be pointed out by any journeyman sorcerer much less by a master."

Lord Darcy nodded. "They knew they would be found. They took the late Lord Robert Cahill as hostage to forestall their immediate arrests. But that is not our subject here. Lord Bontriomphe, please continue."

Lord Bontriomphe nodded. "There is not much more that is pertinent. I arose from my desk as I dismissed the messenger and proceeded to My Lord, the late Marquis. I knocked and received no answer despite the fact that I knew him to be in. I knocked again. I verified with his secretary, Sir Lionel, that he had not left his office. I then opened the door and looked in. I saw him sitting at his desk. I knew at once that he was dead. I ordered the secretary to summon a Healer with all haste and then I entered the room. I grasped His Lordship's hand and felt no pulse. I examined the room for signs of foul play even though it was clearly not necessary. The Healer arrived within ten minutes of my request and officially pronounced My Lord, the Marquis, dead because of heart failure. The time was twenty-seven minutes after nine. The Chief Chirurgen confirmed the Healer's diagnosis."

Lord Bontriomphe sighed. "As you know, My Lord, Master Sean, the late Marquis had not been in the best of health for some time, although he hid it well from most people."

Lord Darcy nodded. "He loved his wife dearly."

The late Marquis was in love with his wife from the moment he first saw her. She was witty, intelligent and beautiful in his eyes. After she died, the Marquis quickly returned to his duties, but his manner had changed. He became physically lazy, almost reclusive, losing interest of everything outside of his office except for food, and his children. It was his excessive diet that led to his failure of health, and ultimately his demise.

"She died in childbirth if I remember," Master Sean mentioned.

"My Lord Roger's birth," Lord Bontriomphe said, then corrected himself, "My Lord Marquis' birth."

Lord Darcy rose to his feet. "I do not need to trouble you anymore, My Lord. I thank you for giving me your time."

"If I could be of help, Lord Darcy, please do not hesitate to ask. I will not presume to intrude on your work, but I would appreciate it if you would inform me of your results."

"Thank you," Lord Darcy replied sincerely. "My questions are unofficial, but I feel the need to ask them. The Marquis and his son were family."

"I was only thinking, Darcy, of how I would feel if I were in your position. I would want to do the same." Lord Bontriomphe smiled at a thought. "As that is the case, My Lord, you may want to talk to an old friend here in London, in view of the involvement of Naval Intelligence. I believe you remember Captain Smollett. I know that he remembers you. He will be more than happy to open doors for you. As for myself, I have my duties to fulfill and work has always been my best medicine."

Lord Darcy smiled in return. "My Lord Bontriomphe, again we thank you for your time. Master Sean and I will trouble you no longer."

Geffrie came when summoned and escorted Lord Darcy and Master Sean from the building. Lord Darcy looked at his watch to see the time. "It is almost noon, Master Sean. What do you say to a stroll on such a beautiful day?"

"It is raining, My Lord."

"Only a light drizzle," Lord Darcy said with a genuine smile.

"What has happened, My Lord?" Master Sean asked.

"I have no idea," Lord Darcy answered.

"I do not follow, My Lord."

"It is simplicity itself. Something has happened."

"And how do you know this, My Lord."

"Lord Bontriomphe told me."

"When?"

"When he suggested talking to Captain Smollett. Our good friend the Captain is in charge of Naval Intelligence Headquarters here in London. He would be informed of events, but any inquiries I would make should be directed to the Naval Office in Cambridge. While Bontriomphe does not have the skill of the late Marquis, he was able to notice the discrepancies in the report of the late Lord Robert Cahill. I am not on an official investigation, so any requests for information from Cambridge would be refused. I am sure they would be very polite about it, but they would refuse."

"And Captain Smollett will not."

"He may, Master Sean. But he may not."

* * *

It was the following afternoon that found Master Sean O'Lochlainn dismounting from a coach behind Lord Darcy outside of the Mercy Hospice of the Angevin Order, on the outskirts of London. The Mercy Hospice was in fact a retreat for members of the Holy Orders who were recovering from various disorders. Characteristically, there was also a Children's Hospital and orphanage attached, as Saint Robert of Anjou was also the Patron Saint of Lost Children. Master Sean noted the irony that the late Lord Robert was named after this very saint.

"Saint Robert, aid us, for we search for one of your own," he whispered, and heard his friend and colleague whisper in return, "Amen."

Lord Darcy knocked on the door to the Hospice and waited for a reply. An older man answered, and bowed when he saw that who was waiting. "May I help you, My Lords?"

"Thank you, Goodman. Lord Darcy is here with Master Sorcerer Sean O'Lochlainn to talk to the Reverend Father Peter Smalling. We were told he had come here to recover from his ordeal."

The goodman nodded. "If you will come in and wait in the courtyard. I will let Father Peter know that you are here. But I should warn you, My Lord, it will not be a long conversation."

"And why is that, Goodman?"

"I regret to inform My Lord that Father Peter could not be completely healed of his injuries. He has lost the power of speech."

The man left them in the courtyard as he went to either bring the priest or bring his apologies.

"He cannot speak, Milord?" Master Sean asked.

Lord Darcy sighed. "As you well know, at first he was thought to be dead and that had been reported in the message to Lord Bontriomphe. I knew he was not cured completely, but this I did not expect."

"My Lords," the goodman called and led a robed and hooded priest into the courtyard. "I have brought you Father Peter."

The priest waved the goodman off and walked up to the two waiting men. He blessed them, then pulled back his hood so that they could see his face. Father Peter was a thin man, slightly taller than Master Sean, with pale skin and gray hair. He wore a patch over one of his eyes but the other was a sharp and vivid blue, catching everything in sight. He also had the remnants of scars on his throat, showing that his larynx had been crushed beyond repair.

Before anything could be said, Father Peter put his right hand over his heart and his left hand out palm down as though to show the height of a boy. He then turned his hand over and motioned to Lord Darcy.

"Yes, Father," Lord Darcy answered. "I did come to see you about Lord Robert Cahill. He was my nephew."

The priest nodded, and did another pantomime. He held one hand over his eyes as though looking for something then shrugged his shoulders as though he had failed to find it. He then struck a pose and raised one hand in front of him with the index finger raised. Finally he moved his hand as though mimicking talking. Both Lord Darcy and Master Sean understood. Father Peter was telling them that he knew the authorities had looked for the late Lord but had not found his body. But his last gesture suggested that he knew where Lord Robert's body could be found, and this was because of comments the attackers had made, probably when they thought the priest unable to hear them.

The priest's final gesture confused them. He reached down and picked up a loose rock about the size of a tuppence and place it in Lord Darcy's hand.

Master Sean stared in surprise. "A rock, Reverend Father?"

The priest grinned and tugged on his ear.

"It is a children's game, Master Sean," Lord Darcy said, grinning in return. "It sounds like . . ." He watched the priest's hand movements. ". . . you are honing a knife?" He received a nod. "Sounds like knife? No, like honing? To hone? A stone?"

The priest smiled.

"Master Sean, this is not a rock, it is a stone."

"I made an honest mistake, My Lord, but I do not understand the difference."

"But I think I do." Lord Darcy turned back to the priest and thanked him heartily for the information. The priest made one last gesture which quixotically said, to Lord Darcy, to give to Lord Robert the priest's blessing.

As they rode back to their hotel, Lord Darcy excused himself. "There is a bookstore I remember on the next street over, Master Sean. I need to purchase an Atlas. I shall meet you in the dining room for dinner."

"May I ask what this is about, Milord?"

"Perhaps nothing, Master Sean, but when I am sure of the thing I will let you know."

* * *

On October 3, at the hour of ten, Lord Darcy was ushered into the office of Captain Smollett, Chief of Naval Intelligence.

"My Lord Darcy," Captain Smollett said, "I received your request and I will have you know that I am only seeing you out of courtesy. This is not to be considered an official visit."

"I thank you, Captain. I do understand. I am making personal inquiries on my own behalf, concerning the death of my nephew."

"It was a terrible matter, My Lord, but that is not within the scope of Naval Intelligence."

Lord Darcy smiled. "But the thefts at the Royal Thaumaturgical Institute are within your scope and they do relate directly to the kidnaping of the late Lord Robert Cahill. It is well known in many circles that the Institute does research on behalf of the Navy."

"That is far from secret," Captain Smollett admitted, "although the actual research is kept as secret as possible. I should note that the Institute also does research on its own as well as for other government departments."

"That is also well known," Lord Darcy replied. "I am curious how such an assault on and theft from the Institute was possible."

Captain Smollett returned Lord Darcy's smile. "You might remember the case of Commander Lord Ashley, My Lord."

"As I was in charge of that investigation, I do."

"The incident was a catastrophe for us. While we did uncover the central spy ring of the Poles, we were forced by circumstance to arrest almost everyone involved. The result was that we had no idea what the rest of his Slavonic Majesty' agents were up to. We had no knowledge of who was left of their network. They were able to direct such an operation by isolating themselves. We knew they were up to something but we were unable to fathom what that might be."

"You do not seem too upset."

Captain Smollett shrugged his shoulders. "In intelligence work, such things are a fact of life."

Lord Darcy nodded. "Would it be too much to ask if everything that was stolen was recovered?"

"I will tell you that everything that related to Naval Intelligence was recovered to our satisfaction. For our part, the case is closed. I cannot say any more on the subject, Lord Darcy, and for anyone else I would not have said as little as I did."

"I did read the official reports," Darcy admitted. "And I do thank you for your time."

Captain Smollett paused. "My Lord Darcy, I must ask, officially, that you refrain from making any further inquiries in this matter."

"Captain, I assure you that I only came here for two reasons. To reassure myself that the Navy was not involved in the death of Lord Robert, and to visit an old friend."

Captain Smollett smiled at the latter statement. "Unofficially, I would like to get together with you and Master Sean, before you leave London."

"I will inform Master Sean. I am sure he will be delighted."

* * *

"Cambridge, My Lord?" Master Sean asked, when he arrived back at their suite.

"I thought the Marquis would like to talk to some of his late brother's friends," Lord Darcy explained, "and also to visit his Godfather, the Duke. My nephew was, after all is said, the one hit hardest of all by these events." He paused. "And I fear I will need your services when we arrive, Master Sorcerer."

Sean noted Lord Darcy's tone and replied, "In what capacity, My Lord Inspector?"

"I will tell you what I discovered at Naval Intelligence. Everything that was stolen from the Navy was recovered, but Captain Smollett let slip that not everything was recovered."

"I understand. He specifically did not say that EVERYTHING was recovered."

"I reason it this way, Master Sean. The murderers, I will not give them another name, went to the Royal Thaumaturgical Institute for a specific purpose. They wanted something, and stole anything else they could get their hands on solely to cover their actions. They knew they could not escape undetected and had included in their plans the kidnaping of a hostage, and that is what gave me my clue. As you know," Lord Darcy said with emphasis, "the theft took place on the morning of the twenty-second of August at Fifteen minutes before the hour of Seven. The kidnaping of the late Lord Robert Cahill took place at the same time, while he was visiting his school to register for the new semester."

"That is correct according to the records," Master Sean confirmed.

"The criminals could have made their theft in the middle of the night, improving their chances of escape by a preplanned flight, but they deliberately chose to wait until they could kidnap our young Lord. Lord Robert was important to their plan. Do you see?"

Master Sean admitted that he did not, but ventured a guess. "Had the late Marquis remained alive, the late Lord Robert would have made a formidable hostage."

"Perhaps true," Lord Darcy said, "but he was not a hostage. He was the bait. His captors misjudged their escape, and could not flee the city as quickly as they hoped. They were blocked from their path and were forced to hide. They did so with exemplary skill but eventually had to confront the local Armsmen before their plan could come to fruition."

Lord Darcy pointed to the map of Cambridge that he had laid out. "Here is the compound of Kings College, where the University of Cambridge is located, The Royal School of Sorcery, St. Cathel's Academy where the late Lord Robert was a student, and the Royal Thaumaturgical Institute. This is the warehouse district where the miscreants were apprehended. That is where Lord Robert was grievously injured and presumably died."

"I follow you so far, My Lord."

"Continuing on in a straight line from that point would bring one to the estate of the Duke of Cambridge, who is Godfather to both the late Lord Robert Cahill, and his brother, the Marquis de London."

"My Lord," Master Sean said in surprise. "The Duke of Cambridge is the Royal Guardian of the Traveler Stone."

Lord Darcy grinned bitterly. "And that is why I do not accept the assumption that the murderers of Lord Cahill simply disposed of his body, yet left the body of the sorcerer where it was. And that is why we will leave for Cambridge as soon as I have arranged for my nephew to accompany us. We could leave as early as two or three days from now, unless you need more time to make your preparations."

"I will need a few items, but nothing difficult to find, Milord. It will not be a problem. But why do you wish to bring the Marquis with us?"

"For him, because he is fond of his Godfather and it will make him happy. For me, because it is the easiest way to gain access to the Duke's estate. As the Duke of Cambridge and I have only the most distance relationship, I would have no cause or excuse to visit him otherwise."

* * *

Duty is always first, and circumstances prevented Lord Darcy from making his planned excursion until the Christmas holidays. Master Sean shared his opinion that the circumstances were most fortuitous. The Marquis de London would not have to spend this most sacred day alone.

* * *

Lord Roger de Somerset, Marquis of London, was sleeping in the lounge chair in the study of his Great-uncle, the Duke of Cambridge. The excitement of Christmas had taken its toll on another victim. He would sleep soundly there until one of the servants moved him to his bed. The Duke of Cambridge looked down on the seven-year-old boy and sighed.

"It was wonderful of you to bring him, Lord Darcy. Lord London needed family on this of all days, as did I."

Lord Darcy smiled at the complement, remembering the recent history of the House of Cambridge. It was Lord James Cavanaugh, only son and heir of the Duke, who commanded the HRMS Bristol on that fateful day in '39. His Slavonic Majesty, Sigismund III, had been thwarted in his eastern expansion by the formation of a loose confederation among the Russian states. Constantinople held the South against him, and His Majesty's Fleet, with their Scandinavian allies, bordered him in the west.

Sigismund III massed his fleet in the Baltic and attempted a breakout. Almost every ship was destroyed by His Royal Majesty's Fleet and The Fleet of his Scandinavian Majesty, leaving His Slavonic Majesty was left nothing to show for his efforts. What most people did not realize was that it was a near thing. What the Poles didn't plan on was the men of the Bristol.

The Dreadnaught Bristol was the first ship to make contact. Before any other ship had time to come up, the Bristol had sunk two heavy cruisers and damaged a third. The enemy faltered in line and had no chance to reform before the main fleet came up. No Polish ship that returned to its dock was undamaged.

The miracle of the naval battle was that none of the Anglo-French vessels were sunk, but the Bristol was the worst hit of any of His Royal Majesty's ships. It was afloat but barely, and two thirds of its crew, and its Captain, were lost forever.

"He was a brave man who deserved to live." Lord Darcy said softly.

"And how many lived because of how he died," Lord Cambridge replied, reminding him of what the cost could have been. He looked once more at his grandnephew. "But these are better days. Shall we retire to the library and let the Marquis sleep in peace?"

They left the study in silence, passing a servant carrying a blanket, and walked down the hall. The butler brought in some cups and a pot of caffe, then left the library.

"Tell me, Lord Darcy, why have you come to Cambridge?"

"Am I that obvious, Your Grace?"

"Had you come alone, I would have thought nothing of it. But you are the Chief Investigator of His Highness, the Duke of Normandy. I must suspect something when you show up on my doorstep for the Christmas holidays and bring your Chief Forensic Sorcerer with you. I ask you directly: Does it concern the late Lord Robert de Somerset, Earl of Cahill?"

"It does," Lord Darcy replied. "It also concerns the Traveler Stone."

"I cannot permit you contact with the stone except by Royal writ," His Grace explained. "You are aware of that."

"I do not need to see the stone, Your Grace. Master Sean has assured me that we only need to be near it. Even this room is close enough. There is a simple test I would like him to perform which may tell me if Lord Robert was pronounced dead prematurely."

Lord Cambridge arched an eyebrow. "You claim that my nephew could still be alive. How?"

"It is a possibility, Your Grace, albeit slim. I will also admit that I make that point not only to affect your interest, but because the priest who was with Lord Robert when the kidnaping occurred believes he is still alive. As it is, I have determined that the kidnappers were making their way to your estates when they were thwarted. Considering their point of origin the reason is clear. I also have it on good authority that not everything was recovered from the theft of the Royal Thaumaturgical Institute."

"And what prompted you to make this investigation in the first place?"

"I do not believe the theory on why Lord Robert's body was missing."

"Your news does disturb me, Lord Darcy," the Duke of Cambridge admitted. "It is no secret, in certain circles, that the stone is in my care, nor that the Institute does visit periodically to conduct research. But, By God Above, if there is a chance that my nephew is still alive, however small a chance that may be, I will do everything within my power to find him. What did you wish to do?"

"I suspect that the Institute, having lost one 'item', will make another. I will attempt to prove that the Institute has successfully reproduced the Traveler Stone, and then petition His Majesty's Court to have the case reopened."


	9. Control

Chapter Nine: Control

"The task at hand is relatively easy," Master Sorcerer Sean O'Lochlainn explained to His Grace, the Duke of Cambridge. He smiled as he said this. "In fact, it is the Law of Relativity that most applies in this case." He opened his bag and began to pull out the necessary equipment. The first task was to light the brazier which he did by placing several pieces of coal inside and lighting them with a wick.

"That did not look very magical, Master Sean," teased the Marquis of London.

Master Sean smiled and took a small piece of coal that was still in his hand and swiped it against the boy's nose, causing a black mark. "Oh dear me," he said casually, "Someone had best wash his face and cease bothering the Master Sorcerer at work."

Lord London ignored the hint. "But surely you should have uttered an incantation while lighting the fire?"

"The boy has a quick wit, Master Sean," Lord Darcy commented.

The three men and the young boy were gathered in the library. A stone table had been placed in the room for Master Sean to work. The Sorcerer told his audience that the brazier, in this instance, was only there to supply heat. He then took a small bowl, six inches across and placed it above the brazier. Motioning the boy away to a safe distance, Master Sean picked up a pewter pitcher filled with water, and a wand made of iron. With a glance at the young boy that told the lad to be quiet, Master Sean began to slowly pour the water over the iron wand and into the now heated bowl. As he did so, he began reciting an incantation in old Latin. That task completed, he pulled out two vials from his bag. From one of them he pulled out a pinch of sulphur and cast it into the bowl when he had finished the next incantation.

"Is that all?" Lord London complained.

"I told you it was a simple spell," Master Sean admonished. "We are only trying to find something that is hidden."

Seeing the Marquis' disappointment, Lord Darcy stepped forward with an offer. "If your Uncle is willing, we could take you with us tomorrow when we visit Kings College."

The boy looked up hopefully. "The School of Sorcery?"

Lord Darcy smiled for the answer. "For now, I think Master Sean is correct. You need to wash your face."

"But the spell?"

"He merely drops a pin into the water and it points the direction."

"And I have," Master Sean said loudly. "Your Grace, does the pin point toward the secret passage."

"Indeed it does," the Duke agreed. He looked at the seven-year-old, and noticed that the boy had turned to look at the hidden panel. It had only taken him a week to find it, and that was when he was five. "Roger, you do need to prepare for dinner."

As though waiting for the command, a servant walked in and spied the boy, ushering him from the room while asking about the magic spell and how exciting it was. Once the boy had left, Lord Darcy approached the bowl. "Is the needle pointing?"

"It is spinning, as I assured you it would be, Milord. Your Grace, are you familiar with this spell?"

"In my younger days it was used to trace the course of bullets. If you have one bullet and the revolver which fired it, the needles will point to where the other bullets lie."

"Exactly, Your Grace. In the case of the revolver and the bullets, the spell would take longer to cast because limitations must be placed on the spell. If we failed to do that, the spell would command a needle for every bullet ever fired. I did not need to place limitations in this case because we are dealing with a unique object."

Master Sean noted the needle that he had dropped into the bowl. It was floating on the surface of the water, but it was spinning in a circle. "Instead of the bullet we are using the Traveler Stone as our source object. I spent several hours last night aligning this needle to the stone, a difficult task because I could not use the stone directly, but the Law of Contagion can be very useful."

"And now?"

"And now, Your Grace, I will prove My Lord Darcy's theory. If, as he suspects, the Institute has made a duplicate of the Traveler Stone and they have lost it then they will surely attempt to make another. When I drop this needle into the water, and they point in different directions, we will have our proof. If the needles both sink, we know we are wrong."

Having finished describing the probable results, Master Sean dropped the needle into the water, and stared in surprise. Both needles were spinning.

"Master Sean?" the Duke asked.

"Master Sean," Lord Darcy said easily. "I believe you need to drop another needle into the water."

"Quite right, Milord. I forgot about the first stone they made, the one that was lost. We will now know the location of all three stones."

The needle was dropped and began to spin as had the first two. Then the needles began to orient themselves. The needle aligned to the Traveler Stone pointed in its exact direction. The third needle pointed toward the city of Cambridge. Lord Darcy was positive that it pointed directly at the Royal Thaumaturgical Institute. But it was the second needle that attracted their attention. That needle was pointing to the north. If that needle was aligned to the stone that they suspected the late Lord Robert had used, then it too should have pointed toward Cambridge.

"Milord?" Master Sean admitted his confusion at the results.

"What is it, Darcy?" The Duke demanded.

Lord Darcy smiled. "It seems I was right about the Institute. They did reproduce the stone after losing the first one they made. But someone has the first stone, and we know how to find him."

"And Lord Robert?"

"There is always hope, Your Grace. But it is most important that we contact the Crown immediately. Give my apologies to the Marquis but I must hurry with this information. Master Sean, can you give me an idea of how far away the stone might be?"

"As you can see, Milord, how the second needle dips below the water. The stone must be quite some distance away for the needle to reflect the curvature of the earth, but it is still in on this island. The only guess I would make would somewhere between here and Inverness. I strongly doubt that the stone would be close"

Lord Darcy nodded. "Are you able to preserve the needles?"

"Easily, Milord. I will have the needles prepared for travel upon your return. I have planned on the possibility." Master Sean smiled at the look of relief on Lord Darcy's face.

The Duke had already summoned a servant and had ordered his coach made ready. He also gave an order that a luncheon basket be prepared and in the coach as soon as it was ready. He then turned to Lord Darcy. "Good luck to you, My Lord, and let me remind you. You did everything at my behest." The Duke added firmly, "If any error of judgement has occurred it is mine alone."

Lord Darcy smiled in appreciation. As he was not on an official case, his use of Master Sean's skills could be held as a breach of protocol, but not a breach of the King's justice. The Duke of Cambridge, however, had the right to use any means to protect the security of the Traveler Stone. His Grace was not giving him an excuse for his actions. As of this moment, Lord Darcy was acting as the official messenger of the Duke of Cambridge in his capacity of Royal Guardian.

"The coach is waiting as you ordered, Your Grace," a servant said.

Lord Darcy bowed to His Grace, the Duke of Cambridge, and took his leave.

"Your Grace," Master Sean asked, holding a small glass bulb which held a needle. "Do you have an atlas of the British Isles? I thought I would use my time to do some research." He pointed to the needle. "I need to make some measurement and I would try to determine where our quarry might be."

His Grace paused. "Your quarry, Master Sean."

"Forgive me, Your Grace, but as both yourself and Lord Darcy have stated, finding your godson alive was always the slimmest of hopes. If the needle points true, then those who escaped the Armsmen still have the stone in their possession, and they are still close by, in a manner of speaking. I know My Lord Darcy enough to know that we both will be heading north in the near future."

In short order, a map was laid out, and the needle was set on the spot marking the city. The map was rotated to properly face north, and the two men stared in fascination.

"I would say you should start in Edinburgh from the looks of this," the Duke commented. "It is the biggest city along the path."

"The stone does not have to be in a city," Master Sean pointed out. "But I think you have the right of it, Your Grace. That would be a good place to start."

The Duke of Cambridge nodded. "If that is all we can do for the present, I suggest we pause now. It is time to eat, and to explain to an excitable boy that plans have been changed."

* * *

Captain Sir Mortimer Sheffield was not amused. As Captain of the Guard for the City of Cambridge it was his duty to investigate every crime that came to his attention, if not directly then through his office. He was now facing the Chief Investigative Officer for the Duke of Normandy who was informing him of events outside his jurisdiction.

"Do you understand now, Sir Mortimer, why I must use your teleson to place a call to London? Or should I climb back into His Grace's carriage and ride directly to London."

"You have revealed top secret information to me, My Lord. Information you clearly do not have cause to have." Sir Mortimer looked with unfriendly eyes at Lord Darcy. "I suspect that I should be the one to make that call." He paused. "Am I correct that you were acting at the behest of the Duke of Cambridge?"

"I am acting in an official capacity."

"All the same, I will have to assume the worst," Captain Sheffield explained. "You will be held until I can verify your statement, but I will also pass on the information you have given me. Hopefully, I can prepare for the best and the worst at the same time."

"Then you do believe me?"

"Your reputation is such that there was never a doubt, but as I have said, My Lord Darcy, you have no reason that I know of to have the information you do, especially if it is true. I must act accordingly."

It was no small irony that Lord Darcy was offered a choice of tea or caffe while in custody, nor was he ever shown to a cell or a locked room. He merely waited patiently. For two hours.

"My Lord Darcy," Captain Sir Mortimer Sheffield said upon his return. "I have relayed the information you gave me to the appropriate authorities. In view of the amount of time that has already passed since the theft of the Royal Thaumaturgical Institute, it has been decided that everyone with knowledge of your experiment should be brought to London forthwith. Do you wish to remain in Cambridge tonight or return to the Duke's estate?"

Lord Darcy smiled. "I assume that Master Sean is to accompany us. Which is why I have my choice of lodgings."

"A Kings Messenger is already on his way to summon the Duke."

Lord Darcy looked surprised. "I appear to have disturbed a beehive. I must also apologize to you, Captain Sir Mortimer. It was not my intention to involve you in this."

"What is done is done," Captain Sheffield told him. "I will look at the bright point. Three of my Armsmen died trying to apprehend those traitors that killed the Marquis' brother. I may have a chance to catch the rest of them. And, I have been assured, His Majesty now knows my name. I will assume that is also a good thing."

* * *

The Duke of Cambridge made hasty arrangements for the trip to London. Fresh horses were hooked up to the coach, the pneumatic tires were checked to make sure there was enough air, and a basket lunch was packed. London was close enough that the Duke did not consider taking the train. He could travel faster by taking the King's road directly into the city. Master Sean O'Lochlainn had given his luggage to the coachman and had his personal bag with him, as was usual.

Both men were concerned, but not afraid. It was the seven-year-old boy who was afraid. He was to accompany his great-uncle to London and be returned to his legal Guardian, Lord Bontriomphe. His manner was obvious to everyone.

"You did nothing wrong," Master Sean assured the boy, once the coach was underway. "Something important has occurred and we must return."

"That was a Kings Man," Lord London said clearly. "He ordered you and Uncle to go." His fear was abject. "I do not want to lose anyone else."

The Duke quickly grabbed the boy and pulled him into a hug. "You will not lose anyone, my darling boy. I promise you."

"Then why?" the boy cried. "Why do you have to go?"

"The King commands," the Duke told him in a firm voice, but continued to hold the boy close. "We have discovered something."

The boy's tone changed sharply as he pulled himself from the Duke's hold. "Is it about Robert?" he said hopefully. "You found him?"

The look in his uncle's eyes told Lord London the truth. Then the Duke explained himself. "We have not found your brother, My dear Roger, but we may have found his murderers. We cannot bring him back to you but we can give justice to his death. That is why we are called to London."

"I was hoping," Roger said sullenly.

"As I still hope," the Duke said, forcing the boy to look at him. "It is a small hope but until the complete truth is known it will be there, waiting to bloom or to die. I loved your brother dearly and I will always keep that hope as long as the smallest chance exist."

"Amen," Master Sean said, and was pleased to see a small smile from the boy. Nothing had changed except that Lord London knew that he was not alone in how he felt.

* * *

The old year still had several hours left to it when the small group gathered. The Duke of Cambridge led them as a privilege of rank. Not the rank of nobility, but that of the affection of a young boy. They stopped at a door where two of the Kings Men stood at guard. One of the men reached over and opened the door he was guarding to reveal . . . a playroom.

"Off with you," His Grace said to the dour Marquis de London. The boy looked in the room, and his gloomy expression became a smile once again. He bid his uncle goodbye, and almost ran into the room.

"The Duke of Lancaster will appreciate a playmate," the Duke said. "He and the Marquis are close in age."

"It is good to know that one of our group will be happy." Captain Sir Mortimer Sheffield was not convinced that the reason for this meeting was a good one.

"It is curious," Lord Darcy mentioned, "that the younger son of His Majesty should happen to be at Westminster to celebrate the New Year, when the rest of the family is at the Tower."

Sir Mortimer understood the implications. If one of the princes was here, that meant that, seen or unseen, their father was also here. "What have you done, Darcy?"

"Spoken a truth," Lord Darcy answered calmly. "And wrought more than I knew."

The escort led the three gentlemen and the Master Sorcerer into a conference room where three people already sat waiting for them.

"Good Afternoon, Captain Smollett," Lord Darcy said to the Chief of Naval Intelligence. "I thought you would be here."

"Your Grace, My Lords, Master Sean, will you please be seated."

Everyone took a seat around the table but Captain Smollett remained standing. "I must ask that everyone agree that this be an informal discussion, that no one presume upon rank."

The Duke of Cambridge laughed. "If that means I am not obligated to speak, I am for it. It will bring me back to my University days." He looked at the short, thin, middle-aged man in Sorcerer's robes sitting next to Captain Smollett.

Captain Smollett followed the gaze. "This is Professor Gabriel Quirrell of the Royal Thaumaturgical Institute. It seems that there has been a breech of security concerning his work."

"And not the first," Lord Darcy pointed out.

"The person responsible for that," Captain Smollett said firmly, "is now receiving his just reward from his Creator. I have it on good authority that the four of you are aware of information that you should not have. Captain Sheffield, I apologize for the necessity of bringing you here but it could not be helped. My orders were explicit."

"I thank you for that reassurance, Captain Smollett, but I must admit that while I know WHAT, I do not know WHY."

Captain Smollett gave a short glance at a partitioned wall then looked back. "Lord Darcy, I believe you would be the best person to give the explanation. How did you find out about the control stone?"

"I did not," Lord Darcy said with some surprise. "I deduced that the Institute had duplicated the Traveler Stone and had Master Sean perform a test to prove my theory. I contacted you because of the unexpected results."

"Did you use the Goulding Test?" Professor Quirrell asked suddenly of Master Sean.

"I did, and without restraint, which appears to have been the cause of our mixed fortune."

"But you did record three stones?"

"We did," Master Sean said, his excitement matching that of Professor Quirrell. "The first needle pointed to the Traveler Stone. The second needle is pointing somewhere to the north . . ."

"And the third one to the Institute, of course." Professor Quirrell was smiling as Master Sean nodded. His smile became bigger when Master Sean made his next statement.

"I saved the needles in solution and I made an attempt to triangulate."

"Where is the stone?" Quirrell asked anxiously.

"I am not sure how accurate I am but it seems to be in Scotland, somewhere north of Edinburgh. It is hard to be accurate using an Atlas and a compass. The distance between Cambridge and London were not great enough to cause a significant change in the angle of direction."

"We could go to Wales?" Professor Quirrell suggested, forgetting about everyone else as he studied the problem.

"Aberdeen," Captain Sheffield said suddenly. "You'll be closer to your quarry at that point, and if you are traveling as a group of any size you will call less attention to yourselves if you begin your wanderings in Scotland by going to Scotland. You will gain a better angle as well. It will narrow your search more quickly."

"Yes, quite right," Professor Quirrell said, nodding his head.

"Excuse me," Lord Darcy said at this point. "I understand your excitement, Professor, but you called this stone a control stone. Could you clarify this point?"

Professor Quirrell looked to the man seated next to him, a priest in plain robes, who nodded.

"Everyone here knows about the Traveler Stone," Professor Quirrell began as he went into his lecture voice. "The Traveler Stone was made in the distant past by an agent of God, seemingly for the good of all men. To touch the stone places the person in another world where they are expected to come to an understanding of themselves. This would seem an example of the shamanism found in pagan tribes in New England except that, with the Traveler Stone, their counterparts also come here. Experiments with the Traveler Stone proved this point centuries ago.

"What we have done is study the Thaumaturgic nature of the Traveler Stone. We cannot turn its off, so to speak, but scientific evidence shows a means of redirecting the power, of controlling the stone. As we were prepared to make our first tests, the Control Stone was stolen. We assumed it was lost but that, since access to the Traveler Stone was restricted, the loss was not dangerous. It would be nothing more than a pretty jewel to whomever found it."

"Are you sure about that last part?" Lord Darcy asked.

"We have not made tests," Professor Quirrell said. "There is always room for doubt. Why do you ask?"

"If I may, Milords," Master Sean asked, looking both at Lord Darcy and the Duke of Cambridge. When both nodded, he continued. "Gabriel, have you read the report on the late Lord Robert Cahill?"

"Why, no."

"The body was never found."

"But that would mean . . ."

"Is it possible that because the Control Stone is attuned to the Traveler Stone it need not be in contact to work?"

"In theory, yes. But, as I have said, it has never been tested."

"It may be a vain hope," Master Sean said, "but we believe it has."

"That is wonderful if it is true," Professor Quirrell chortled.

"It is not," Captain Smollett said. "If it is true, it means that the Control Stone was tested by agents of His Slavonic Majesty."

"You see the conundrum, Captain," Lord Darcy said with a smile. "If the stone is being used and in foreign hands, then why does the Goulding Test show it to be in Scotland?"

Captain Smollett eyed Lord Darcy carefully. "What do you presume happened?"

"Lord Robert Cahill's body was not found, but some few agents managed to escape at the last minute. I should also note that a Master Sorcerer was found dead on the scene but was not killed by any of the Armsmen. I presume in his case he had outlived his usefulness to the Poles. If Master Sean's suggestion is not correct, then we could speculate that one of those who escaped must have been Lord Robert. It is well known what the uses of sorcery are if one should dare anything."

"You are talking about Black Magic," the priest said, speaking for the first time.

"That is precisely what I am talking about, Reverend Father. I do not know if this Control Stone has been tested or not but, if this theory is correct, I suspect that Lord Robert is still useful to the plot. I am not an expert in the field of intelligence but I am an expert in the criminal mind. I am of the opinion that whomever is in possession of the stone is biding their time."

The Duke of Cambridge cleared his throat. "Is this the reason a Papal Legate is at ths meeting?"

The priest nodded. "As you well know, Your Grace, the control of the uses of sorcery lay in the hands of the Church. Efforts to make the Control Stone only began after denotive approval from Avignon. While there are many secular uses for such a stone, it will be controlled by the will of the Pope and his council."

"My interest, Reverend Father, is not to go against the Church or the State for any reason. I am well past my prime, but I still have needs that guide me. I want only to discover the truth about my late nephew, if he is indeed dead. From what I have learned I understand that I may find him alive and wish that it were not so. But for my own sake, I must know the truth."

"It is God's will that we should learn the truth of all things," the priest said sadly, "even those things we would wish never to know." He turned to Captain Smollett. "As the voice of his Holiness the Pope, I tell you this. His Devout Majesty, John IV Plantagenet, has the blessings of the Church in his pursuit of justice in this cause. Let him know that he proceeds with the aid and help of the ever loving God."

"On behalf of his Majesty we thank His Holiness for the confidence he has that we are pursuing God's work."

"Amen," Lord Darcy said in chorus with the rest of the men in the room.

Captain Smollett smiled at his old friend. "My Lord Darcy, would you fancy a trip to Scotland in wintertime?"

"Under the circumstances, I would find it a wonderful vacation."

Captain Smollett outlined his plan. Lord Darcy and Master Sean O'Lochlainn would travel to Scotland in search for the missing stone. They would remain in contact as much as possible, and call the local Armsmen to their assistance as need be. Professor Quirrell would begin his tests with the Control Stone and keep Naval Intelligence and the Papal Legate informed of all results, good or bad. In the worst case, they would need to know as much as possible as quickly as possible.

The easier tasks fell to The Duke of Cambridge and Captain Sheffield. They had to return to their duties as though nothing had happened, but both men would be on call if the need arose. As the meeting was concluded, Captain Smollett asked Lord Darcy to stay behind. He then surprised Lord Darcy by excusing himself. As the door closed in front of him, another opened behind him.

The Lord Chancellor walked forward without any ceremony. "My Lord Darcy. By order of His August Majesty, John IV Plantagenet, you are hereby ordered to take any action necessary regardless of law in the completion of your duties as explained to you by Captain Smollett."

He handed Lord Darcy a parchment sheet with the heavy wax imprint of the Royal Seal.

"I must ask, Your Grace, is such an order necessary?"

The Lord Chancellor gestured toward Captain Smollett. "The Captain is better able to explain the situation to you, although I think you are already beginning to grasp it." Then he took his leave.

Lord Darcy nodded. He had presented three possibilities concerning the control stone, before he even realized that was what he was talking about. The stone could be missing, simply lost. It could be held as useless by whoever had it. The third was the most terrifying. It could be used and someone was using it.

* * *

"Can you imagine, My Lord, being able to go anywhere, instantly?" Captain Smollett was making his point but he did not go far enough.

Lord Darcy smiled without humor. "In the worst case, not only anywhere but any world, including a world that discovered the uses of magic so early that what we practice today makes us appear as barbarians. I could not imagine what discoveries their scientists would have made. If Polish agents can and are already using the Control Stone, we may already be doomed."

"I am very happy," Captain Smollett said, "that His Majesty favored you with this task. It is one I did not want."

"Nor I, now that I understand the gravity of what I am dealing with." Lord Darcy paused. "Captain Smollett, I have had a curious thought. Why is everyone certain that the worst possible scenario is the true one? Had the Control Stone secretly been tested?"

"It had not, but there was an incident, with a journeyman. He was handling the stone when he imagined himself as a Master Sorcerer doing research. He claims that the laboratory seemed to blink and that he saw himself in Masters robes. He rubbed his eyes in disbelief and when he opened them he was back in the laboratory again, as normal."

Darcy nodded. "It could have been a daydream, or not."

"He only revealed what happened after we discovered that cell where Lord Robert Cahill had been held prisoner. He is a good man but, until he heard there was no body to be found nor the stone, he thought nothing of it."

"His confession took place in the Institute's medical ward," Lord Darcy said with authority.

Captain Smollett was amazed. "How could you possibly know that?"

"I visited Father Peter Smalling. He gave me a rock, then corrected me. He gave me a stone. I surmise that our History Professor was awake the entire time of his ordeal, and heard and understood the nature of the confession. Fortunately, it was not made to the priest, and thus not under the seal of the confessional."

Captain Smollett smiled. "It is always the smallest details that slip by us."


	10. Search

Chapter Ten: Search

Lord Darcy stood next to Master Sean O'Lochlainn on the edge of the cliff that looked out over the lake. The Sorcerer had in his hand the glass bulb that held the needle charmed to the missing control stone.

"This reading confirms it, Milord. The stone is somewhere in those ruins on the other side of the lake."

Lord Darcy nodded. It had been three weeks of careful travel to avoid any possible chance of being followed. They had taken ship to Aberdeen, and made as exact a reading as they could. Then they took the train to Edinburgh, and contacted the authorities there. A small snowstorm delayed them for a while but now, after three days of hard traveling through the borderlands, they found the site of their quest.

Neither man was overly happy. The travel and the cold had dimmed their spirits, but so had the questions. In all this time, the stone had shown no signs of movement. Lord Darcy uncovered his lensed scope and surveyed the ruins. Except for a few cows in the field beyond there was no sign of life.

"I do not understand this, My Lord. Why would the stone be in such an inconvenient place?"

"It tells us a great many things, Master Sean, but that is not one of them. I am heartened by the obvious fact that it is not in the hands of our enemies. I dare say it is not in anyone's hand, at least not anyone who is living."

"I admit I am still perplexed," Master Sean commented.

"We will know the answer in time," Lord Darcy assured him. "We will search the ruins at daybreak tomorrow, but I wish to spend the rest of the day somewhere warm talking with someone who knows the history of this place."

"Do you think that important, Milord?"

"I think it might be interesting. The ruins are a sort of tourist attraction I would gather. That would explain why such a small village has an inn listed in the King's Register of Businesses. If the stone was hidden there, we know what cover the person used."

Master Sean nodded. "I would not object to a warm room and warm food, with good ale and good conversation."

"Then let us mount our horses and proceed to Hogsmeade," Lord Darcy commanded with feeling.

* * *

"MAM," the boy shouted when he saw the two men enter the Three Broomsticks. A matronly woman came out of the kitchen behind the bar and looked at the strangers in her common room. Surprise was quickly overcome, not by the thought of additional income, but the knowledge that she would have something to talk about tonight when the farmers came in for a break from the cold.

"Good Afternoon, Good Sirs. Are ye lookin' for somethin' ta eat or will ye be needin' rooms?"

"Both, Goodwoman, and well wanted. We have had our fill of the cold for the rest of the day." Lord Darcy spied the boy, about eleven or twelve, watching from the doorway. "We need to stable our horses as well, Goodwoman."

"Jamie," the woman said without turning her head. "Ye have work to do."

The boy sighed and disappeared. He reappeared shortly with a heavy coat and went outside to take care of the horses. The woman smiled then turned back to the two men. "Ye have yer pick of rooms this time o' year. I've one over the kitchens which is always warm in winter."

"I thank you, Goodwoman. That would be fine. I am William Daniels and this is my colleague, Goodman Patrick O'Hara."

"I'm managin' the inn fer my husband," the woman told them. "Just call out Goodwoman Bridget is ye need anythin'."

They were led to their rooms which were comfortably warm. Lord Darcy thanked the goodwoman for her offer to bring them food, saying they would be down shortly to eat if that was convenient. Bridget smiled and said she would have the roast ready in an hour and asked if that would be fine. All the amenities complete, she left them to settle in.

* * *

"And what be ye doin', Goodman William, if I may ask?"

Lord Darcy smiled at the Armsman who had addressed him. Master Sergeant Donald Tarr had many admirable qualities. He was a veteran of His Majesty's Army as his rank testified to. Otherwise, he would simply have been Sergeant at Arms. Sergeant Tarr was also the husband of Bridget, the Goodwoman who managed the Three Broomsticks Inn. His most commendable quality was his willingness to talk about the history of the area. But that was no surprise. That was why most visitors came to this village, although never too many.

"My friend and I," Lord Darcy answered, "have a survey contract from the Duke of Edinburgh. It seems that . . ."

"Ah, tha' sounds interestin' enough," Sergeant Tarr said quickly, and politely changed the subject. Master Sean, dressed as Goodman O'Hara laughed into his cup. Lord Darcy had assured him that surveyors have the most boring job in the world when it came to describing what you do, and he had been proven correct.

"The land about has its own beauty this time o' year," Sergeant Tarr said joyfully.

"Indeed it does," Lord Darcy agreed as he pulled a well used pipe out of his worn jacket. "But I was curious. We spied the ruins on our way here. Would I be ignorant to ask what they are?"

"Ye would indeed," Sergeant Tarr laughed, "but I'll not fault ye. Tha's many donna ken them ruins. Tha's Hogwarts, or wha's left o' it after five hundred years."

"That is Hogwarts Castle?" Master Sean said in surprise. "I have read about it in the histories but I never knew where it was."

Lord Darcy nodded. Hogwarts Castle was the first school of magic ever established, almost a millennium ago. In the middle of the fifteenth century, the rules of Magic were codified and a formal method finally established. In 1473, during the reign of Richard IV, the Hogwarts School was moved to Cambridge where it became the core of Kings College. The compound now included seven different schools besides the School of Sorcery, as well as the Royal Thaumaturgical Institute and the Cathedral of Saint Cathal.

"William," Master Sean said, "We must make it a point to tour the ruins. I am sure we could take the time."

"We are well ahead of our work, Patrick," Lord Darcy replied. "It would be worth a look." He paused, "if that is permitted, Sergeant?"

Sergeant Tarr laughed. "I've no complaint if ye want to stomp around some old rocks in the cold. Ye have my blessing."

* * *

It was not a difficult walk to reach the ruins, and Master Sean managed to keep up with Lord Darcy, even though he was not in as good a shape, and had his ever present bag with him. The only problem was the small bundle of clothes that made up their guide. Sergeant Tarr insisted that his son accompany them, just in case something did happen. He also pointed out that his son was not to be paid for his efforts. Jamie Tarr did not complain because it still meant that he was free from chores for as long as he could make the day last.

"Ye'll want ta see everythin'," the boy insisted. "I ha' been everywhere."

"That depends," Lord Darcy said. "Can you be trusted?" He pulled out a gold sovereign, and watched as the boy's eyes grew wide, but the boy never lifted his hand.

"Me Da said no to takin' money." His disappointment was clear. "Ye can trust me as far as tha'."

Lord Darcy smiled. "Had you taken the money, that is all you would have received, and I would have sent you away, however . . . Can you be trusted . . . with the King's business."

Jamie's eyes bulged from over his scarf. "Kings business?"

"Milord?" Master Sean asked, and Jamie Tarr became frightened.

"I think we will need his help, Master Sean."

"As you wish, My Lord." Master Sean reached into his bag and pulled out the glass bulb.

"A sorcerer?" Jamie said in surprise, noticing the bag for the first time.

"Perhaps I should make introductions." Jamie looked up when he heard the voice as though he was looking at the man for the first time. "I am Lord Darcy, Chief Investigator for His Highness the Duke of Normandy, on special assignment for His Most Royal Majesty. This is my assistant, Master Sorcerer Sean O'Lochlainn. And you may find this humorous but we need your help."

"My help?" Jamie asked, his fear replaced by curiosity.

"You were telling the truth when you said you knew the ruins thoroughly?"

"Aye, sir. Better than my Da, and I donna brag."

"Then you can guide us through the ruins when we point out a direction?"

"Aye, Milord." Jamie smiled for the first time and pulled off his glove to shake hands.

"And you can have this, after all," Lord Darcy said, and put the gold sovereign in the boy's hand. The boy began to object, but Lord Darcy added, "Make sure you peal the foil off before you eat it."

As Jamie waited for his first instructions, he unwrapped the foil to reveal the chocolate underneath. He quickly ate half of it and put the other half away for later. He had already decided that it was worth it to see his father's face when he gave him HALF a sovereign. Then Lord Darcy pointed, and the boy led the way. Jamie was true to his word and led them easily to any point in the mass of rubble that they pointed out.

"Milord," Master Sean called after taking his latest reading. When Lord Darcy approached, he changed his voice to a whisper. "The stone lies in that direction but if you look at the angle of the needle you can tell it is not lying on the ground."

"Jamie," Lord Darcy called out, "We need to get to the other side of that wall in a straight line from here."

"Tha's easy enough, M'lord," Jamie said, and led them around the stones. The wall was in fact a fallen tower and was easy enough to get around, although there was enough debris lying around to make both men happy they had a guide. They reached the point on the other side of the tower and Master Sean looked at the needle again. It was clearly pointing upwards. He pulled an instrument out of his bag and took a measurement.

"It is sixty-two degrees from the plane, Milord." Master Sean walked forward as far as he could, and took another measurement. He did some calculations on his pad and then looked up. "Milord, it should be above us some fifty feet."

"There is nothing above us, Master Sean."

"I know, Milord. What I do not know is why."

"Neither do I," Lord Darcy admitted.

"Wha is na there?" Jamie asked.

Master Sean answered. "We cast a location spell to find something that was deliberately hidden and we were surprised at the result. The spell was cast improperly and now we must find out why."

"Is tha' all?" Jamie asked in disappointment and disbelief.

"Is that all, you ask," Lord Darcy. "I will have you know, Goodman Jamie, had the spell been successful, His Majesty's forces would have a powerful weapon at their disposal. We could find anything or anyone we wanted. Imagine fighting a war and you knew where all of the enemy's ships were at any given time, or the armies on land."

Jamie smiled at the prospect.

"Remember, Jamie. This is the King's business and is not to be talked about. Nor are you to let anyone know who we are."

"No one, Milord?"

"You should tell your father, but only in secret, because he is the King's Man, but no one else."

Jamie nodded. "I'll tell no one."

To the boy's credit, he never did except for that one exception. Sergeant Tarr greeted them politely the next morning and helped them prepare for their return. He said nothing to Lord Darcy about the matter, but he bowed out of habit.

* * *

Time passed and the world continued on its path around the sun. The winter cold was swept away, and the northern hemisphere became warm once again in its ever repetitious cycle. Lord Darcy returned to his duties in Normandy after filling his report, and he and Master Sean returned to the daily life of an investigative team. But things change, and at the end of April, a summons was sent from His Highness, the Duke of Normandy. Lord Darcy was ordered to return to London to await the pleasure of His August Majesty, John IV.

A King's Messenger was also there to greet them when Lord Darcy and Master Sean disembarked at Dover. He ushered them to a waiting coach, and made sure they were well on their way before he spoke.

"I am to deliver a message directly to you, My Lord, and to Master Sorcerer O'Lochlainn if he is also present."

The role of the King's Messenger is of vital importance to the Empire. These are men of complete and devout loyalty who have dedicated their lives and their minds to their duties. It is possible to capture a King's Messenger when he is carrying a message of utmost secrecy, but it is impossible to make him reveal what the message is. He is conditioned to die if such an effort is made. The simple explanation is that he does not know. Master Sorcerers have blocked off a portion of his mind where messages may be recorded by or to His Majesty. When prompted, the Messenger gives his message and promptly forgets it. The memory is not longer there.

The Messenger began to speak in a voice that was not his own. Had Lord Darcy not controlled himself, he would have made obeisance out of habit. Even though this was only a message, the voice still had that power over him.

"My Lord Darcy, when you arrive at the train station in Dover you will find a familiar face waiting for you. Accompany this man to your final destination. You have been there before. By our order, all has been made ready. The task is at hand."

The Messenger blinked and was his normal self again. "My Lord, Master Sorcerer, I must ask if there was any problem with understanding the message."

"None at all," Lord Darcy stated. "It was well received."

"Very well, My Lord." He slid open the panel to reveal the underneath of the driver's seat and reached through to tap the man's leg. At the prearranged signal, the driver stopped the coach. The King's Messenger departed the coach and left Lord Darcy and Master Sean to continue their journey alone.

"Milord?" Master Sean asked. "Which task is at hand?"

"I suspect, Master Sean, that we will find out from whoever is going to meet us. We both know it relates to the Traveler Stone and I suspect we will be returning to Hogsmeade. Remind me to stop at a Chocolatier and purchase some gold sovereigns."

Master Sean smiled. Cocoa was one of the most popular goods to come from New England and New France. It almost rivaled the popularity of caffe which had become a staple of daily life in the Empire. As it was more perishable once it was processed, the Chocolatier rarely sold his goods far from where they were made. With the gradual improvement of the King's Highways, this was beginning to change, but not very quickly. Such a gift was always welcome, and it would stave any possible questions from one young boy.

* * *

"Master Sean!" Professor Quirrell was still as short and gray-haired as ever, but his countenance gave the image of someone much younger in years. "I cannot wait to tell you about our work." As an afterthought he added, "Good Day to you, My Lord Darcy, I hope you had a pleasant journey. Master Sean, there are so many things to tell you. I have reserved a compartment for us." Then he added conspiratorially, "I have already placed an eavesdropping spell on it so that we will have complete privacy."

Lord Darcy followed the two sorcerers knowing that he was the odd man out. He would have politely waited in the café on the train but he did need to hear firsthand what the Professor of Thaumaturgy had to say. They boarded the train and went directly to the compartment, and Professor Quirrell began talking as soon as the door had been closed.

"It has been an amazing time, Master Sean. The control stone has been everything we hoped it was and more."

"Your tests were successful?"

Professor Quirrell nodded and reached into his bag, a matching one to Master Sean's but darker in color and more worn. He pulled out a coin and showed it to the two men with him.

Lord Darcy read the inscription. "Ten units, Confederation of Europe."

"It is an actual coin of the realm from an alternate universe. We found a world where the Anglo-French Empire merged with the Poles. I think it was a marriage alliance. The German States and Turkic Spain combined with the Scandinavian States, all of this occurred some three hundred years earlier, and forced the formation of a confederacy to preserve their independent status. It was a fascinating place."

"You have actually been there?" Master Sean asked.

"Indeed. It was our longest excursion, almost three days, before we had to return to avoid suspicion."

"Professor," Lord Darcy asked. "This coin is obviously used but it is dated 1983 and this is 1979. I would have thought that they would date it according to the birth of Our Lord."

"They do," Professor Quirrell said sheepishly. "It seems that the actual year of birth of Our Lord Jesus is, may God forgive me, subjective. It is Church Doctrine that he was thirty when he began teaching and thirty three when he died, but the records were not well kept."

"An interesting curiosity," Lord Darcy noted. "And it shows how insignificant a date is."

"If I may ask," Master Sean said. "The control stone does not need to be in contact with the Traveler Stone?"

"Not at all," Professor Quirrell said. "After we understood why you found a stone that was not there, we also understood that the stone would remain with the person that used it. Once we determined that, it was only left to determine the nature of the tests."

"Professor," Lord Darcy interrupted. "Did you say that you discovered why we did not find the stone?"

Professor Quirrell nodded. "It was a variation of the MacGregor Syndrome." He smiled when Lord Darcy shook his head. "As you remember, Master Sean performed the Goulding test on the Traveler Stone and discovered the missing stone, but it was still missing. The MacGregor Syndrome was named after the results of an experiment involving a MacGregor revolver. I assume you are familiar with the manufacturer."

Lord Darcy nodded, fully aware of the gold-plated MacGregor he carried with him by order of His Majesty.

"In 1862, the Goulding test was performed on the revolver in question to determine where in a room the bullets fired from it had ended up. One of the bullets had ricocheted off the back of the fireplace and into a log in the fire where it was melted by the heat and turned into vapor. The needle used for this particular bullet pointed at the spot where the bullet had lodged even though the log had long since turned to ash and the fire dampened. The needle continued to show that point even when the fireplace was emptied of ash and scraped clean. The MacGregor Syndrome tells us that when an object is removed from this world, whether by destruction or otherwise I must now add, the Goulding test will show the last place where it had physical cohesion. Do you follow?"

"I believe I do, Professor. You are saying that the control stone we were looking for was last in our world at the point we discovered, even though that point was in midair."

Professor Quirrell nodded. "Once we understood how to transfer to a different world, we tested that hypothesis. We had one of out testers imagine himself in London, but with a slight difference. He chose a London, if I may phrase it that way without confusion, where His Highness, the Duke of Normandy ruled as King and Emperor. The Goulding test showed that the stone was in London, even though he left from Cambridge. He returned after only a few minutes and the needle in question reoriented on his new position."

The Professor paused. "It has been decided that, for safety, we should attempt to retrieve the missing stone, if possible."

Lord Darcy nodded. "Does the Institute have any theories on who may have used the control stone?"

"The most popular theory, My Lord, is the one you suggested to the Duke of Cambridge. This is to be a rescue mission with two purposes. You are to retrieve the stone at all costs and, if practicable, discover the fate of the Duke's nephew and return with him. His Grace the Duke demanded that the phrase be added 'with him or his remains'."

Lord Darcy gave a grim smile. The Duke, ever hopeful, was also a realist. Lord Robert Cahill may have been able to use the stone to effect his escape but, if that was so, he had been clearly unable to use it to return. He paused in his thoughts as he heard Professor Quirrell tell Master Sean, "I am excited for you. You are clearly going to a world where Hogwarts Castle is still extant."

"How can you be sure?" Lord Darcy asked.

"The control stone, My Lord. We have discovered that it will not take you to a place that is unsafe. If you imagine a specific world but a spot that is occupied in that world by a building wall, nothing will happen. We discovered this by imagining as specific a world as possible and trying to transfer into the same spot on that world. In this case we used the world of King Richard. We eventually discovered that the building that houses the Institute did not exist in that other world. That is why we are going to Hogsmeade. Since the Castle is still standing, the grounds may be different. It could be a city. We have no way of knowing."

Lord Darcy nodded. "We need to find a spot that we can transfer to. Because we are going to a specific world, we need to go to a specific place."

"Exactly, My Lord. Once you know of a safe place to transfer to, then you can leave from anywhere."

"Milord," Master Sean said as they felt the train begin to slow. They had reached London. "There is a shop near to the station. You may wish to make your purchases if we have time."

"We have more than an hour before the train to Edinburgh," Professor Quirrell said. "Her Grace promised to be waiting at the station when we arrived so as not to delay us."

"Her Grace?" Lord Darcy asked.

"The Dowager Duchess of Cumberland, My Lord. She was added to the group by direct order of His August Majesty, not that I would question him, but for the life of me I do not know why."

"Perhaps it is because she held Lord Robert at his Christening," Lord Darcy answered. "The presence of a woman in our group also makes sense. We will less likely be seen as a hostile group." He noted darkly that if Lord Robert were found alive, someone would have to inform him of his father.

* * *

It was a rather large crowd that stood before the ruins of Hogwarts Castle. Professor Quirrell was there with Lord Darcy and Master Sean. Father Confessor Maurice de Pannier, the representative of the Pope was also there as was Sir Mortimer Sheffield, His Majesty's Captain at Arms for the City of Cambridge. These five men where to be the group to use the stone to enter the world that it was presumed that My Lord Robert de Somerset, Earl of Cahill, had gone to. The sixth person of this group was the Dowager Duchess of Cumberland.

The Duchess was the second wife of the late Duke. Because she was a commoner, it was a morganic marriage. She held the title out of courtesy but none of her children, had she bore him any in their short but happy marriage, would have been eligible to inherit her husband's rank or estates.

Curiously, Her Grace and Lord Darcy had warm feelings for each other, but Lord Darcy had to consider his heritage. In private conversation, The Duke of Normandy had informed him that he could not consider such a marriage. Had Her Grace inherited or earned her title there would have been no problem.

Both of them had determined the events afoot. Both, in their own ways, were popular at court, but for a woman to gain a title involved doing something of great purpose for the Empire, and women rarely had such a chance. Mary, Duchess of Cumberland was being given such a chance. If Lord Darcy was correct, one of the results of this effort would be a wedding. It was definitely an advantage to be thought well of by His Majesty.

Lord Darcy glanced at the others who were present. Several members of the Royal Thaumaturgical Institute as well as Sergeant Tarr and his son. The boy, Jamie, was given permission for a specific reason. He was the type who was more likely to keep a secret if he understood how important it was. This was a secret he would have to keep for a very long time.

"Does everyone know what to do?" Professor Quirrell asked, and they all nodded. Out of habit he repeated the instructions anyway. "All of us who are traveling must remain in physical contact with the person who is using the control stone. In this manner, the entire group will travel together. Please, take your places."

As the group formed some distance from the ruins and made contact, Professor Quirrell invoked the control stone. "Oh, Dear. It did not work." He ushered everyone another twenty yards and tried again. Again, nothing happened. This time he ushered them twenty yards to one side. When he invoked the stone, the world seemed to suddenly fade away. The world then faded back into place amid the shouting of hundreds of voices.

Professor Quirrell ignored the noise and pointed to the viewing stand that stood before them. "A perfect example. We could not transfer on our first two tries because of the structure in front of us."

"James," Her Grace said to Lord Darcy, and pointed upward. A teenaged boy had come into view above them much higher than the viewing stand. The two moved quickly to a gap in the stands. They could not see the ground but that appeared unnecessary. They saw over a dozen teens of varying ages flying on broomsticks.

"This must be a jest of some sort," Captain Sheffield said, then quickly added, "Dear God above us. My Lord, the two youths flying together across the field."

Lord Darcy looked up and smiled, almost laughing. They had come to find Lord Robert, and they had found two of him.

"I knew it," Professor Quirrell said giddily. "The Law of Attraction still holds."

"But which is which?" Lord Darcy asked as the stands suddenly became quiet.

"Have we been spotted?" Her Grace asked.

"I do not think we will be spotted until the game is over," Lord Darcy said, "even if we were to yell at the top of our lungs."

A whistle blew and everyone watched in amusement as the players took their places. By chance of position, they were able to observe one end of the field and watched as one of the Lord Roberts blocked a throw by the opponent.

"Aerial football, if I am correct," Father Maurice said with a smile.

"With danger added, Reverend Father." Lord Darcy pointed out the bludgers.

Suddenly a whistle blew, and all of the players flew to the ground, out of their sight, as the people in the stands began to complain.

"Something has happened," Captain Sheffield said. "I must investigate."

"Captain?" Professor Quirrell called out with apprehension. "Is that wise?"

The Captain turned around. "My Lords and Gentlemen. Your Grace. I know by far that I am the least intelligent member of this group, but even I am aware that this is a school. I must investigate the matter in case my charge is involved, but we must also announce ourselves at some point. I choose to do so now."

The Captain turned around and began walking toward the side of the arena facing the school, assuming the entrance to be there. With little hesitation, the remainder of the group followed. As Captain Sheffield espied the entrance, a group of students and teachers began to walk out. As one they stopped when they spied him, and one student asked, "Professor McGonagall, why is an Armsman here?"

"Excuse my abruptness, Goodwoman," Captain Sheffield said loudly. "I am Captain Sir Mortimer Sheffield of His Majesty's Barracks in Cambridge. I do not wish to delay you but I must inquire after the health of my charge." Before anyone could react, he turned to the boy in the Quidditch uniform and asked, "Are you well and safe, My Lord."

Harry grinned widely at the surprising comment, and pointed to the twin standing next to him.

Captain Sheffield returned the grin and turned to the next boy. "My Lord?"

The boy hesitated. "I think 'maybe' would be a good answer."

"Goodness," Professor McGonagall uttered when the rest of the group walked up. Then she was in control of herself. "Your timing is dreadful, and all of you will have to wait. Harry, Ron, Charlie, come with me right now. Madam Hooch, could you take care of this."

"Right," Madam Hooch replied and walked up to the group. "Now then, who are you and what took you so long to get here?"

"Be careful, Captain," the Duchess of Cumberland said mischievously. "If you say the wrong thing, you could be kept after."

"And you are?" Madam Hooch asked, as a crowd gathered.

Her Grace looked at Lord Darcy and they both smiled. "I'm Charlie's Godmother."


	11. Return

Chapter Eleven: Return

Madam Hooch escorted the six strangers to the teachers lounge after she had a quick word with Professor Flitwick. Then she watched them. The lady in the group, the Duchess, was acting friendly and all of them seemed relaxed, except the short skinny man. The tubby little man and the priest kept staring at everything in the room, and engaging the portraits in conversation.

"Excuse me, Goodwoman," the tall thin man, Lord Darcy, said, after a brief conversation with his associates. "You seem to be having a problem at your school, which we have unintentionally added to."

"Don't worry," Madam Hooch said. "You won't be going anywhere for awhile."

The man smiled. "You should understand that we are staying here by our choice and not by yours. I am telling you this in advance so that you should not be surprised, because one of our number does need to leave."

Madam Hooch smiled in as friendly a fashion as she could. "That isn't possible. The door's been charmed to open only when the headmaster arrives. I can't even leave."

"Goodwoman, we were not planning on using the door."

"You can't apparate in Hogwarts. There are wards in place."

"To apparate is to leave in what way?"

"Milord," Master Sean said suddenly as he walked up. "I've been talking to the portraits and one of them mentioned that. Apparently, these people have developed a form of spatial displacement."

Lord Darcy nodded, then had a thought. "Master Sean, I was told that a spell was cast on the door so that it can only be opened by a specific person."

"Such a spell is common enough, Milord. I would not be concerned. But . . ." he turned to Madam Hooch, "would you mind if I examined how the spell was cast?"

Madam Hooch smirked. "Do you think you can break the spell? You're welcome to try."

Master Sean looked at her with complete seriousness. "Goodwoman, I assure you that I am capable of breaking any spell. The only question would be how much time it would take. A sloppy spell would take perhaps fifteen minutes. I once removed a spell by a Grand Master. It took me three days. That was a task."

"Is that your specialty?" Madam Hooch asked in curiosity.

Master Sean gave her a curious look, then admitted. "I am a Forensic Sorcerer. Knowing how to break spells is one of the tools of the trade." He turned to Lord Darcy and whispered, "that was an odd statement, Milord. No apprentice can become a journeyman without knowing such fundamentals. One of the final exams is to do that very thing."

"They appear to use magic in a different form than we do, Master Sean. I would surmise that the differences could be cultural. They are more advanced in some areas than we are but perhaps they are behind in others. Please examine the lock. How they form their spells will tell us a great deal about their world."

"It was my thought as well, Milord."

As Master Sean bent over the lock, the Duchess of Cumberland came up. "My Lord, Professor Quirrell has returned to the staging area. He has assured us that he will return to this room shortly. It was time to make his report."

Madam Hooch heard what was said and began looking around the room. Satisfied that the man had left, yet extremely unsatisfied by that very fact, she had to ask how.

"Question for Question," Her Grace said with a smile, noting Madam Hooch's momentary doubt. "We both have things to tell and things we want to know."

Madam Hooch hesitated. Somehow, she was no longer in charge of the situation. "Who starts?"

"We are the guests. We will begin. We have learned how to move from one place to another," she looked at Master Sean, "without casting a spell. Professor Quirrell left only to let our friends know that we are safe. He will return to this room as soon as possible but it will be at least an hour." Her Grace smiled. "Now it is my turn, but I am going to cheat and ask two questions, principally because we have already introduced ourselves, yet you have not. May I ask who you are and what your relationship is to the school, and what can you tell me about 'Charlie', again as far as his attendance at this school?"

"Fair enough. I'm Madam Hooch, the flying instructor. I also referee the Quidditch matches but you know that."

"To be honest, Madam Hooch, we did not. And Charlie?"

Madam Hooch smiled. "My next question will be what do you know about him. Here's the basics. He was found the first weekend of school severely hurt. He recovered physically but he had lost his memory. Only recently has it started to come back."

"He was badly injured?"

"It was plain luck that his brother that found him when he did."

"His brother found him?"

Madam Hooch was surprised. "Yes, Charlie Potter was found by his twin brother, Harry." She added thoughtfully, "no one even knew that Harry had a brother."

Her Grace nodded with an equally thoughtful countenance, "I can assure you the same is true of Charlie."

Master Sean walked up. "I decided to take your offer and I have removed the spell, Goodwoman Hooch. It was very sloppy. Extremely powerful but with little cohesion. It took a mere ten minutes."

"Master Sean," Lord Darcy said to interrupt. (Madam Hooch was getting red in the face.) "Did you know that Charlie has a twin brother?"

"And who is Charlie, Milord?"

"The Late Lord Robert Cahill," Sir Mortimer said, speaking for the first time.

Master Sean nodded and gave a whimsical smile. "No wonder it was such a problem finding him. We were looking for two boys. Shall we go, Milord?"

Madam Hooch realized that she had now completely lost control of the situation. One of her charges had disappeared. And another had removed an unbreakable charm and called it sloppy. Professor Flitwick would be highly insulted by the remark, but that was the least of her problems.

"I can't allow you to leave."

"Madam Hooch, I fear I must take advantage of you once more. We have no desire to create any more problems but we have our own agenda that we must see to. We do intend to leave this room and make our way to the hospital wing, with or without your help. It is paramount that we determine the medical status of Lord . . . of Charlie as quickly as possible. We would sincerely like to explain the matter to you but this is not the time. You yourself mentioned that the school is not safe."

It was Captain Sir Mortimer Sheffield who decided the issue. "Madam, I assure you that we do not in any way intend to do you or anyone at this school harm. I give you my oath as the King's Man. But this must need be done. It is my sworn task to protect and defend the boy you refer to as Charlie and I can not do my duty in this room."

Madam Hooch was grateful that no one from the school witnessed her moment of indecision. She had a reputation for bringing hard-nosed as a teacher, but these people did make sense in a strange sort of way. "I'll take you to the infirmary, but I can't guarantee anything."

"With all due respect," Father Maurice said. "I will wait here for Professor Quirrell. If you could, my good lady, send someone to escort us, it would be appreciated."

Madam Hooch nodded, then led the way out of the room.

* * *

Harry and Ron were dismayed by the sight. Hermione had been petrified, as was Penelope Clearwater. It happened as they came out of the library. They were also concerned by Charlie and his reaction to the strangers that had appeared. Madam Pomfrey was examining him and they were sitting by, anxious about the results.

"Charlie?" Harry asked when Madam Pomfrey let him stand up.

"He's fine," Madam Pomfrey told them. "He had a bit of a shock."

"I remembered too much, too fast," Charlie explained. "I needed time to adjust."

Harry nodded. "That man, you said he was an Armsman, he called you Lord Robert?"

Charlie nodded. "It seems I came from much further away than I thought."

Ron interrupted. "LORD Robert?"

"My full title would be Lord Robert Lyon James de Somerset, Earl of Cahill, heir to the Duchy of Cambridge and to the Marquisate of London."

"That's a mouthful," Ron replied trying to sound lighthearted. "What's a Marquisate?"

"It means that my father," he looked at Harry, "our father is the Marquis de London and I am his eldest son. But I must tell you that I honestly do not understand how that is possible and yet I find myself here."

Albus Dumbledore walked up as Charlie finished. "It appears that the time has come to be completely honest with you, Charles, or should I call you Robert."

"You heard me, Professor?"

"I did. My only wish is that this moment had come much sooner. I have waited for so long for you to remember and now I am pressed for time. But there is no help for it. First, before I begin, how should I address you?"

The boy stumbled in his thoughts. "Uh, Charlie, I would guess. Until I understand better what has happened."

Albus smiled in reassurance. "First, Charlie, don't worry about any seeming conflict in your memories. They are most likely correct." He paused and looked at both Harry and Charlie. "I have to tell this to both of you. Harry, your brother was not raised in this world. I understood very soon after his arrival that he came here by somehow crossing the barrier that separates us from the parallel world in which he was raised."

Harry was clearly confused, and looking at Ron did not help. "Sir, how is that possible?"

"There are ways to travel to a different world, an earth that might have been, an alternate dimension, however you want to phrase it. All of these ways are dangerous and are rarely used because of the unknown factors involved."

"Then how did Charlie end up here?"

"Isn't it obvious, Harry? There is a bond that connects the two of you. Charlie was drawn to you. That is why he appeared directly in your path. Had he appeared a few seconds earlier, you would have found him in the common room instead of the hallway."

Charlie frowned. "He is not telling you everything, Harry. He does not want to shock you."

Albus turned to look at him. "It seems that you know enough to understand what has happened, Charlie, and you have already been through the shock. Perhaps you should tell him, if you think that would be best."

Charlie nodded. "Harry is my brother. It would be best."

Albus Dumbledore looked deep into Charlie's eyes and saw a sparkle in them and a determination. The two boys were brothers. More closely bound than any normal pair of twins, these two had developed and cemented a relationship with each other and it would not break.

"Charlie?" Harry asked.

"Harry, Dumbledore lied when he said I was born three minutes later than you were."

"You mentioned that you were the older brother." Harry laughed. "I can live with that."

"I am not older than you, Harry, nor am I younger. I was born at the same time as you were, by the same parents, but in a different world. You were named after your mother's father, Harry, as was I, but in my world his name was Robert."

"Then the two of you aren't really brothers?" Ron asked.

"Yes we are," Harry and Charlie answered simultaneously, and laughed when they did.

"Father will be surprised when we go home," Charlie told Harry.

"Our parents are alive? In your world, that is."

Charlie shook his head. "Our mother died in childbirth when I was five. She is gone but Roger has her face. It is as though she left a part of herself behind."

Harry nodded and grinned. "You mentioned we had a brother. I can't wait to meet him." He turned to Dumbledore. "Professor, is that who those people are? Are they here to take Charlie home?"

"To take us home?" Charlie quickly added, and was relieved to see Harry smile at the thought.

"We shall see," the headmaster told them. "We know that they came here, and that they know you, Charlie. I think it is time that we ask them why they came. If the three of you are up for it?"

"The three of us?" Ron asked.

"Mister Weasley, I would not leave you out of this group for any reason. Your input as a friend is always important."

"It's because of Hermione," Ron said. "Thanks, Professor. I couldn't handle being alone right now."

Albus led the way out of the infirmary only to be accosted by two Quidditch teams. As the outbreak died down, Cedric Diggory chose to ask his question in the moment of quiet.

"Sir, I think I speak for all of us when I say we are afraid. Are those people related to the attacks in any way?"

"Mister Diggory, they are not. They are here because of your Keeper. Their timing was a cruel coincidence. The teachers are patrolling the corridors but I must ask that you return to your common rooms at this time."

Amid the comments, several students tried to ask about finishing the match but were turned down. Susan Bones felt Cedric prod her and followed his gaze. "Excuse me, Professor, are you," (she glanced as Cedric mouthed some words), "are you going to talk to the strangers, now?"

"We are, Miss Bones, and no, you may not join us."

"But, Sir, Charlie is our friend, and if he's going to leave for any reason, we'll want to know why."

"I am sorry, Miss Bones, but even with Mister Diggory coaching you, you will not convince me to change my mind. If Charlie is going to leave, he will tell you the reason himself."

Reluctantly, they began to walk away when another group of people began to approach, led by Madam Hooch. She began to apologize, but Albus raised his hand to let her know it was not necessary.

"I will blame Professor Flitwick. He assured me he would put a charm on the door."

"He did, Albus. This man here who calls himself a Master Sorcerer said it was a sloppy piece of work."

Everyone looked at whom Madam Hooch was pointing to, and Charlie shouted, "MASTER SEAN." Then he nudged Harry. "He is the one who taught me that spell I cast on Malfoy."

Both boys looked at the tubby Irishman and grinned.

* * *

Everyone was seated in the headmaster's office, and most were holding a cup of tea.

"I suppose the question is how do we begin?" Albus Dumbledore stated, after introductions were made.

Captain Sir Mortimer Sheffield spoke up. "Professor, I am commanded by His Majesty to retrieve My Lord Robert Cahill and return him to our world, but the first order of business must be that Lord Robert and his Godmother be given privacy for their own discussion of family matters. Then we will begin."

Albus nodded. "Your Grace, there is a room through the door to the right of the staircase. Will that fulfill your requirements?"

Mary, Duchess of Cumberland, arose from her seat. "Thank you, Professor. Lord Robert, will you follow me please."

"Harry should come," said Lord Robert, formerly Charlie Potter. "He is family."

Her Grace hesitated, then nodded, and led both boys to the room. When the door closed, Albus Dumbledore looked to Captain Sheffield for an explanation.

"The Marquis de London, Lord Robert's father, passed away on the morning that his son was kidnaped. The only mercy was that he died not knowing that anything had happened to his son."

"Cor," Ron whispered to himself from his seat in the corner.

Dumbledore frowned at the news. "It appears that Lord Robert and Harry Potter had more in common than they realized."

"There is another matter," Lord Darcy said. "These two have styled themselves as brothers. We must mutually determine what is to be done with both of them. There will be difficulties if both of them remain together, regardless of which world it is."

"Am I to understand," Albus replied, "that there is a possibility that they will remain in this world?"

"Lord Robert is going to school here. If he were to return to our world he would still be going to school. It is a possibility that we discussed when we realized that Hogwarts Castle was still standing in your world. This is compounded by the fact that you were aware of Lord Robert's origins yet continued to treat him as though he belonged. On behalf of his family, we are grateful to you for that."

Albus smiled in appreciation. "You should know that I didn't have much of a choice in the matter. Either I kept him here as a student or I sent him away to who knew what. The difficult part was convincing everyone that there was a logical reason for him being here. That's why I promoted the idea that he and Harry were twins."

"There is one other matter that must be cleared up," Lord Darcy said, his face completely serious. "We need everything that Lord Robert had with him when he arrived."

Dumbledore nodded and waved his wand. A wrapped bundle appeared in front of him and he handed it to Lord Darcy. "I had thought the clothes might be important someday, if only as proof of his condition when he arrived. I made a point to preserve them, although I cleaned them first. They are still in frightful shape."

"There are only clothes here?" Lord Darcy asked. "Did he have personal effects with him as well?"

"Nothing. He only had with him the clothes that he was wearing. Was he supposed to have something?"

Lord Darcy paused and looked to Master Sean who nodded his head. He then looked to Captain Sheffield, who said, "he has cared for Lord Robert these past eight months as though he were his own kin. In this I would trust him, but . . ." The Captain nodded in the direction of Ron Weasley.

Ron was at a loss. He had lost Hermione without warning, and now Charlie might leave and take Harry with him. In half a day, all of his close friends would be gone.

Lord Darcy looked at Ron with knowing eyes. "Are you very close to Lord Robert?"

"Well," Ron said slowly, "He's Harry's brother, at least I thought he was, and Harry's my best mate at school. But he is in a different house."

Lord Darcy noted the tinge of fear in the boy's words, and assumed the proper reason. "I think you should stay then. As they have not returned yet, you might prove helpful. Professor Dumbledore, what we are looking for is a small stone, smooth, that glows faintly with an inner light."

"Are you referring to the Traveler Stone?" Dumbledore asked, smiling. He understood one of his guesses was correct. In view of where Lord Robert had appeared, he surmised that the Stone was involved in some way.

"That stone would glow with a red color, if I am correct? This stone is similar except that it glows with a blue color. It would have come with Lord Robert when he changed physical planes."

"I haven't seen or heard anything about a blue stone," Albus told him. "Mister Weasley, it appears that your presence actually is useful. Have you heard anything about this?"

Ron was honestly surprised. "No, Sir. No one said anything about finding anything like that. The house elves cleaned everything up. They would have been the ones to ask."

"And Harry never said anything?"

"No, Sir. And Colin didn't either. If he found something like that he would have told everyone."

Dumbledore turned back to Lord Darcy. "I assume this stone is the means by which you control the Traveler Stone."

Captain Sheffield snorted. "My Lord, I am amazed at the brilliance I find around me. Professor, you made that remark as a statement. A lesser man would have asked it as a question."

"Excuse me," Ron asked after the men stopped laughing. "Professor, what is the Traveler Stone?"

"It is a curious artifact, Mister Weasley. To touch it sends you to another world, a parallel world where things may have happened differently. Also, the person who is you in that world is brought here. The purpose is to learn about yourself. In Lord Robert's case, he used a control stone which placed him in our world with Harry Potter instead of replacing him."

Ron suddenly understood. "So Charlie isn't Harry's brother, he's actually Harry, but with a different life."

"Exactly, Mister Weasley."

* * *

Harry felt that he was lucky in one respect. His parents had died when he was young. He never had the chance to know them. But Robert did. He knew their mother until he was five, then lost her. Now he had discovered that their father had died. The irony was that Harry felt no irony of thinking of his parents as their parents.

Mary, as she insisted they call her in private, was supposed to be there for support, but it was Harry that Robert turned to. Now Robert was cradled in his arms, racked with sobs. It was all Harry could do to hold on to him and not take a hand away to wipe his own tears.

"Harry," Mary asked. "Can you take care of him for a short while?"

Harry nodded, and Mary left the room.

* * *

Lord Darcy turned around when he heard the door open and Her Grace came out of the room. She closed the door behind her. "It did not go well," She told everyone. "Does your school healer have something to help him sleep? Robert will have a hard night."

"I will send Madam Pomfrey a message," Dumbledore said.

"Thank you, Professor. My Lord Darcy, you were more right than you thought. The two boys have a strong bond between them. We will have to bring both of them when we return if we want either of them to cooperate."

"We were discussing that very point, Your Grace. We are only waiting for Professor Quirrell to return." Lord Darcy paused. "And our young Mister Weasley has walked in to console his friends. Perhaps we should wait as well before fetching them."

* * *

Remus Lupin walked into the teachers lounge and introduced himself to the priest who was waiting there. "I will be your escort," he explained. "Everyone is now in the headmasters office discussing the current, um, mess."

"Thank you for coming," Father Maurice said, "but we will have to wait until Professor Quirrell returns."

"Quirrell?" Remus asked. "We had a Professor here last year by that name, and I know that you . . ."

Father Maurice grinned. "That was commented on as we were led here, but I have been assured that it is a coincidence of name. Our professor does not fit the description of yours by any stretch of the imagination. But may I ask you, there was mention of an attack?"

Lupin nodded. "There is something in the school. We don't know what it is but it has attacked several people. No one's been killed but they are petrified. There were no attacks for months, then there were two today, shortly before you arrived."

"And the status of the school."

"I'll be honest with you. It is shaky. As I've said, no one has been killed, but if another attack occurs without any results, the school may be closed."

Father Maurice nodded. "I do appreciate your honesty, Goodman Lupin. I presume your headmaster has informed my companions about this."

"If he hasn't, it's because he hasn't had a chance, but he will make sure they know." Remus paused. "Will you be taking Charlie with you when you leave?"

The priest paused, then decided not to correct the Groundskeeper. "You have an affection for him."

Remus laughed lightly. "I was an old friend of his parents . . . in this world. He made me an honorary uncle."

"We will be taking him with us when we return, but I have the feeling that he will not be leaving permanently. He has too many associations in your world."

"Who does?" Professor Quirrell asked as he suddenly returned.

"Gabriel!" Father Maurice smiled and made the introductions. "We were discussing what to do with Lord Robert. He is known here as Charlie Potter." He turned to Remus. "We will have a problem keeping his name straight."

* * *

Ron opened the door and walked in to see Harry and Robert sitting there. When Robert finally looked up, Ron said, "I heard what happened. I'm sorry."

Robert nodded, his eyes red with tears. Ron couldn't help himself. It only seemed proper to ask another question. "What was he like?"

"What?" Robert asked in a hoarse voice.

"Well, Harry never knew his Dad. He died when Harry was just a baby. None of us ever had a chance to meet him. But you did."

"He was wonderful," Robert said softly then added bitterly, "He knew better. He should have taken care of himself." He stopped. "That was not fair."

"You may be right," Harry said. "I wouldn't know."

"Thank you, Harry, for taking my side. Before Mother died, Father was very much like he appeared in the photographs you have. I remember when I was four he picked me up and carried me through the house. He stopped at every portrait and told me who that person was and how they were related to me. Then he listed all of their accomplishments. But that was before Mother died. After that he became quiet. He began to eat a great amount and he never did much of anything. He was always there for me, to talk or to explain, but we never went anywhere again."

"He must have loved our mother very much." Harry was still cradling Robert, and hugged him to show he understood. Robert gave him a faint smile, then sat up on his own.

"I loved and hated my father. But that was why I grew so close to Roger. I was five when he was born, a scant week after my own birthday. When I was eight, I realized he would never have the chance to do any of those things Father did with me. I picked him up, and I carried him through the house, stopping at every portrait. I told him the same things that Father told me."

Neither Ron nor Harry said anything at this confession.

"We should be going back," Robert said suddenly. "There are things to decide, things about us, Harry."

As Harry watched, Robert stood up and dried the tears from his eyes with a handkerchief. He took a deep breath and in an instant transformed from the tear-stained boy, to the young Lord. Only the redness of his eyes would give him away. Harry stood up and took a deep breath as well. In one second he had gone from the strong brother giving help to the brother in need. When he walked out of this room, his entire future would change.

As they walked out, Ron opened the door for them. Robert paused and put his hand on the other boy's shoulder. "Thanks Ron. You have been a good friend."

"You too, Charlie."

Ron grinned, and Robert smiled as well. A genuine smile. Then he stepped out of the room and became Lord Robert again.

"My Lord," Captain Sheffield said as he turned toward the doorway. "We have discussed the arrangements, should you have no objections."

"I am in no position to object to anything," Lord Robert said.

Father Maurice stood before the boy. "You are in a position to object to everything, Lord Robert. In this realm you have a legal guardian who has left it for you to decide your future."

Lord Robert looked around and saw his uncle (honorary), Remus Lupin, who gave him an encouraging smile. "First tell me what you have decided. If I have difficulty with anything you propose I will inform you."

"You will make a wonderful diplomat one day," Father Maurice said with a smile. "Professor Dumbledore?"

Albus smiled and walked up to the three boys, approving of the way Ron and Harry stood by in support. "We have all agreed that you should not be taken from the school without proper measures to place you and your brother elsewhere."

Lord Robert looked at Harry and they both smiled. They would not be separated.

Albus continued. "However, it is obvious that you should return to your own world. We have agreed that you and Harry will visit with your brother, and make such arrangements as are necessary for your futures. In two weeks, both of you will return here, circumstances permitting, to complete the school year. Do either of you have any difficulties with this?"

Instinctively, both boys looked at Ron, who grinned back at them. "Go ahead. I'll muck about with Fred and George while you're gone."

"Lord Robert, you will need to make your goodbyes. You will be accompanied by your Godmother and Captain Sheffield. When you are ready, please meet with everyone else in front of the Gryffindor common room. Harry, if you will show everyone else the way to Gryffindor." Albus paused. "I want all of you boys to know that Miss Granger and the others are in no danger. The mandrake roots are almost ready. Everyone should be recovered by this time next month."

"We understand, Professor," Harry answered.

* * *

Susan Bones was the last person to be worried when she found out that Charlie had a different name. She was the first person to be concerned when she discovered he was leaving.

"I will be coming back, Susan. You need not worry on my account."

"But this is so sudden. Why can't you explain it more? At least tell me where you're going."

"To London." Lord Robert smiled as Susan misunderstood.

"Owl me, then."

"I can not."

"Then I'll send you a letter and you can send a response back with my owl."

"Owls will not be able to reach me where I am going."

"But London's not that far away."

"Where I am going is a world away," Lord Robert said.

"But you will be coming back?"

"I promise."

"I'll hold you to that promise," Susan Bones said, then she suddenly grabbed his head in both hands and kissed him. The next moment, as though surprised by what she had done, she began to blush and ran from the dorm room.

"Your Grace," Captain Sheffield said, "It seems that Lord Robert has made quite an impression on that young lady."

Ernie MacMillan and Wayne Hopkins, sitting on their beds, smirked. Ernie added helpfully, "All the girls act like that when he's around."

"That does not help, Ernie," Lord Robert said, but everyone else was laughing.

* * *

"Here we are," Harry said as he showed Lord Darcy the portrait of the Fat Lady. "You asked where I found him. It was on this very spot." He then gave the password and the portrait opened.

"Harry," Lord Darcy said as he eyed the entranceway, "before we go in, could you show us, in detail, what happened on that day?"

"In detail?"

Master Sean grinned at the boy. "My Lord Darcy is a Criminal Investigator. If it helps you, consider this as humoring him."

Lord Darcy smiled at the boy's grin then watched Harry carefully as he waited for the portrait to close before going through the motions.

"There isn't much to tell," Harry explained, "I stepped out from behind the portrait, then I tripped and fell on top of, um, Lord Robert."

"You tripped? What did you trip on?"

"His hand, I guess. Because when I fell, I landed right on his back, where he was wounded."

"Milord," Master Sean said, "I recognize that look."

"Am I that obvious, Master Sean? I have simply determined what happened to the missing control stone."

"Is that like the stone you used to come here, Sir, excuse me, My Lord?"

"Yes it is, Harry. It is the stone that your brother used to come to this world." Lord Darcy noted how Harry seemed to relax because of that word. "Are you good at logic problems?"

"I'm terrible," Harry admitted.

"But you think like Lord Robert," Lord Darcy pointed out. "Imagine you were in his place and, somehow, you managed to gain control of the stone. Where would you hide it?"

"How big is it?"

"Lord Darcy made a measurement with his hand to show an inch at most in any direction."

Harry started to think. "I couldn't have hidden it in my clothes. I had no pockets or anything. But I would have to keep it on me." He looked up at Lord Darcy. "I could hide it in my mouth."

"Very good, Harry. Now picture this. Lord Robert is falling. He has the stone, and he is falling face forward. He hits the ground as you are stepping out from behind the portrait. The air is forced from his lungs and the stone by necessity is expelled from his mouth. You step forward, tripping not on his hand but on the stone, falling forward and propelling the stone backward behind the portrait which then closes."

Harry nodded. "But someone would have seen the stone when they went to go in."

"Not if the stone moved out of the way." Lord Darcy was grinning. "Harry, could you give the password again, and ask the portrait to remain open."

Harry did as instructed, then watched as Lord Darcy knelt on the ground outside the entrance and felt underneath the framework of the picture. With a grunt, Lord Darcy pried something from the soft wood and stood up, holding the missing stone. "The portrait makes a close fit as it comes up to the entrance. I also noticed the slight lip. The stone was imbedded in the soft wood so that when the portrait opened the stone went with it, enough under the lip that it would not be noticed. Had Lord Robert known of this, he could have returned home at any time."

Professor Quirrell took the proffered stone from Lord Darcy and put it in the pouch with its sister. Then they entered the common room and entertained the students while Harry gathered his personal things. After the goodbyes had been said, the small group gathered outside the common room. When Lord Robert and the remainder of the group arrived, they formed hands, as Professor Quirrell brought out the control stone. An equally small group of onlookers watched as they faded from sight.

"I'm surprised that they let us know what was going on," George said.

"I'd be surprised if they tried to keep something like that a secret," Fred responded.

"I suppose you're right. They did appear at the Quidditch match, and everyone saw them. Right, Ron."

Ron looked up at his brothers. "You two are good at figuring things out. Aren't you?"


	12. Homecoming

Chapter Twelve: Homecoming

It was a large room. A laboratory. That was Harry's first impression. A number of men where standing around when he and the others arrived, then rushed forward to congratulate Professor Quirrell on the success of the operation. He politely but quickly excused himself and went with his colleagues to discuss the events. Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess of Cumberland, took her cue and led Harry and Lord Robert from the room to a small office not too far away.

"Where are we?"

Captain Sheffield answered. "The Royal Thaumaturgical Institute in Cambridge. The one advantage we have is that if we know the place we can travel there directly. As it is, I must make my report. Good day to you, Your Grace." He left, giving Lord Robert a wink.

Lord Robert's eyes brightened. "My brother?"

The Duchess of Cumberland answered with a smile. "He is with his Uncle. A rider will shortly be on his way to the Duke of Cambridge with the news. We will go out to the estate tomorrow to see them."

"But there is enough time left in the day," Lord Robert pleaded.

"We will wait here while we obtain clothing that is more appropriate."

Harry nodded. Lord Darcy had told him only to take personal items. There was no need to pack any clothes because they would stand out. Lord Robert did deign to ask another question.

"Your Grace. We have the same problem that Professor Dumbledore had. How do we explain Harry's presence?"

"We are in private, Robert. Why are you so formal?"

"Because of Harry. I had not thought of this before, but how do we refer to him and he to us?"

The Dowager Duchess smiled at the thought. "We could say he is your long lost twin brother. That deception worked once before."

Harry grinned in response but Robert was serious. "These are different circumstances. Such a ruse would be easily discovered, and would be an embarrassment. And even I am aware that the truth would cause more problems than either of us could imagine."

"Then I suggest that we await the arrival of your uncle, Lord Darcy. He told me he has given thought to the matter. Meanwhile, I will have someone bring food for us. If either of you are as hungry as I am, they had best bring a large meal for all of us."

Her Grace departed, to return shortly with assurances. As they waited, she explained certain facts to Harry.

"You do understand, Harry, that in our world you do not hold any rank. At the least you would be considered as a commoner, but even a Goodman has a position in our society. That is the first difficulty we have to overcome. More important than clothes is the place you occupy. It defines your rights and duties to everyone around you. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded. His brother apparently came from a very structured society. He should have understood that, considering the fact that every person he had met so far had some kind of title. Then he thought of a question he could ask.

"Your Grace," he said, noting that the Duchess smiled, "Lord Robert told me that he swore an oath in the King's name. In my England, we have a Queen, although she's mostly a figurehead."

"She is mostly a figurehead," Her Grace corrected. "You should not use contractions when you speak, Harry. It shows poor breeding. As for swearing an oath on the King's name, you should know that John Plantagenet, fourth of that name, rules the Anglo-French Empire."

"John? As in King John?" Harry asked, then clarified, "the brother of Richard the Lion Hearted." He did not know why but both Lord Robert and Her Grace gave him a bemused look.

"John Lackland never became King in our world, Harry. He was exiled when he attempted to usurp the throne while his brother recovered from his wounds."

"Was he wounded at Chaluz?" Harry asked, hoping he remembered his history correctly. "In my world, he died and John became King."

"He must have been a terrible King," Lord Robert commented, and Harry grinned in response.

Her Grace nodded. "Then we must give you a history lesson, Harry. Richard recovered from his wounds, and from his rashness which led to them. He settled down and put the Empire in order, although at the time it consisted only of England, Wales and parts of France. After his death, his nephew Arthur, the son of his brother Geoffrey became King. It was his skill in the field and at the diplomatic table that added the Lilies of France to the Plantagenet crest where they sit hand in hand with the Lions of England. Since that time, the empire has expanded to include Scotland and Ireland, and the two continents we discovered to the west."

"You mean the Americas?" Harry asked.

"We call the northern continent New England and the southern continent is New France. You should know as well, Harry, that His August Majesty also has the title of Holy Roman Emperor. Although he holds little actual power in either the German or Roman principalities, they do act as an effective barrier between us and our greatest enemy in this world, the Polish Empire." Her Grace paused for effect. "That is why it is very important that we handle you carefully. Their spies know about the control stone and when they find out about you they will know that you come from another world. You could be valuable to them."

Harry nodded in return. "And that's why I'm only here to visit." He paused and repeated, "And that is why I am only here to visit."

Her Grace smirked. "You have a good head on your shoulders, young man. You have great potential in our world."

Harry and Robert grinned in response, then turned as a knock was heard. Dinner had arrived.

It was well after dinner when Lord Darcy returned with two bundles. With him was Captain Smollett of Naval Intelligence who was immediately attracted to how the two boys appeared almost identical.

"You were right, Lord Darcy. They are more exact than I would have believed. I would swear they even weigh the same. If they kept their hair with the same cut you could never tell them apart."

Lord Darcy agreed. "This is Harry, the boy in question. He has one distinction to Lord Robert. A prominent scar on his forehead. It has an interesting shape."

Harry obligingly lifted his hair and showed the lightning-bolt-shaped scar, and Captain Smollett nodded appreciatively.

"That must be worth something, my lad." The Captain reached into his pocket. "This is for your efforts."

"What is this?" Harry asked as he took the coin offered to him.

"The King's shilling, Lad. By taking that coin you have enlisted in His Royal Majesty's Navy."

Harry was stunned. Whatever he expected it was not this. He saw a similar look of surprise on Lord Robert's face but noticed his expression soften when the Duchess of Cumberland laughed.

"Shall I explain myself, Lad," Captain Smollett said, "or do you want to puzzle it out for yourself?"

"An explanation, please," Harry said.

"You will always refer to me by my rank, Lad. Do you know my rank?" He pointed to the chevrons on his sleeve. "This signifies that I hold the rank of Captain. Remember that. Now, rephrase your request."

Harry nodded carefully. "Could I have an explanation, Captain?"

"In the future, address my rank first. As it is, Harry, you are a problem for us. As Lord Darcy explained it to me, we must have a place for you before you can be presented in public. As you have never been acknowledged as a legitimate son of the late Marquis de London, we cannot present you as such. On the other hand there are enough bastards running around that it is no disgrace either."

"Captain," Lord Robert interrupted, "forgive me, but where Harry comes from that word is an insult."

"And here it is a fact of life," Captain Smollett said with no hint of rancor or apology. "Be that as it may, we can not deny or acknowledge that Harry has noble blood. Therefore, we have an alternative. Now he may be presented as a Sub-Lieutenant in the Navy. As an officer, even of the most junior grade, he may be presented in public without admonition or insult." He turned from one boy to the other. "Do you understand, Lieutenant?"

Harry couldn't help it. He saluted. "Aye, Aye, Captain."

Captain Smollett stared, barely controlling himself until Lord Darcy made his comment.

"When it comes to presentations, there are exceptions."

The laughter from the room caused several people in the laboratory to turn and stare.

"If you will excuse me," The Duchess of Cumberland said, and left the room.

"Why did she leave?" Harry asked, then repeated the question. "Captain, My Lords, why did she leave?"

"He learns quickly," Captain Smollett said to no one in particular. "It was a courtesy, Harry. You need to change into your uniform." He took the bundle from Lord Darcy and opened it. "If we gauged correctly these should fit well enough. We will make adjustments as need be when we have time. Please undress."

Harry was surprised, and slightly embarrassed, but he complied. The Captain handed him the undergarments, then the shirt and trousers, all of which were white. Harry felt more comfortable, but was taken aback by the lace cuffs. He was then given a white vest and a cravat. The jacket was the most interesting piece. It was blue in color, but with a modern cut, except that it ended sharply at the waist, just above his belt. The lapels were the full length of the jacket and when folded over could be buttoned up, but as a rule were to be left open. Lastly he was given his hat, which was almost identical to the regulation hats of the military in his own world.

"Are you having any problems?" Captain Smollett asked as Harry was putting on his boots.

"Captain, I feel right enough." Harry looked over at his brother. "You don't have to laugh. You look a sight yourself." Harry did notice that while Robert was dressed in an amalgam of modern and medieval fashion, it looked natural on him.

"If the two of you are ready then, we will put you in your rooms for the night." Captain Smollett turned to Lord Darcy. "I will leave him in your care, My Lord. Please teach him what etiquette he needs to know. I will see you on Tuesday."

"We will be there, Captain. And we are grateful for your help."

The Captain nodded, then turned to Harry and saluted. He criticized Harry's salute, then taught him the proper method. Satisfied on that point, he left.

Lord Darcy turned to Harry. "I wish you to know, first off, Lieutenant Potter, this is not for show. In our world, you are now an officer in His Royal Majesty's Fleet."

"It's not a criticism, Harry," Lord Robert said. "It was the easiest solution to a difficult problem, but it means that if we stay in this world we can be together." He paused to smirk. "Unless you are on board ship."

Harry laughed lightly but turned serious again. "But how can I be in the Navy? I'm only twelve. I should be in school."

Lord Darcy had the bemused look on his face that Harry was becoming familiar with. "I think you will probably go to one of the Naval Academies to be educated. As for your age, it may keep you from actual combat should fighting break out but it will not keep you from learning. Accept it, Harry, if you stay in our world, you will still be going to school."

Harry nodded, then went to take his wand from his pile of clothes but Lord Darcy stopped him. "Harry, Robert, I must ask both of you to leave your wands here. Bundle them up with your clothes for when you return." He paused at an unspoken memory. "You will not need them here, and I guarantee they will be safe."

Both boys looked confused by his insistence but they did comply.

* * *

Lord Robert awoke early the next morning, and dressed quickly. He looked out of the window at the garden of the townhouse of his Great Uncle, the Duke of Cambridge, then decided on his course of action. He walked from his bedroom to the one his brother slept in and had the pleasure of waking him up.

"You need to dress, Harry. It is Sunday. We have the pleasure of showing you off today for the first time."

"Hrmph," Harry said and tried to roll over but to no avail. "I hope I get a good breakfast out of this," he grumbled as he crawled out of bed. He looked up and smiled. "For a second I thought you were Oliver Wood trying to get an early start on next year. What time is it?"

"Near to six. Mass should begin at the eight hour."

Harry was confused until he remembered what Lord Robert had told him during the Christmas holiday, as well as the conversation they had last night. He always went to the chapel because it seemed normal. And now that Harry was in his world, he would be expected to follow suit. He smiled, this time to himself. If this was the price of having a family, he would go to Mass three times a day.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry was dressed in his uniform and ready for the day, and left his bedroom to join Lord Robert in the parlor. He laughed as he was saluted, then turned as he heard the Duchess's voice.

"I have always loved a man in uniform. Harry, you will attract many eyes today. They are already talking about you."

"About me, Your Grace? Why?"

"News about Lord Robert's return is already spreading throughout Cambridge, and those few people who have noticed you have also noticed the resemblance." She motioned for Harry and Robert to sit. "It was decided last night that a reasonable explanation would be found, although we will have to stretch the truth. If anyone asks, you were only told about your relationship to the Somerset family yesterday morning when you were confronted by the Kings Men. Before then, you assumed that your likeness to Lord Robert was a coincidence."

"And myself, Your Grace?" Lord Robert asked.

"You will tell the truth. You had lost your memory and only recovered it completely when you saw the familiar face of your uncle, Lord Darcy. And neither of you are permitted to discuss the matter of what happened until an official inquiry is made."

Robert and Harry shared frowns but it was Robert who spoke. "My dearest Godmother, I do love you dearly and I am grateful that efforts are being made for Harry and I to stay together as part of the same family, but both he and I must ask why such an effort is being made so quickly."

The Dowager Duchess of Cumberland smiled at the seriousness of the question. "I can not tell you the reason because I do not know. I can tell you this, however. While we were having our private discussion yesterday at the school," she paused as both boys gave a look of pain and loss, "Lord Darcy and Captain Sheffield had a serious discussion about the differences between our two worlds. They have not informed me fully of what was discussed but I do know that neither of those men slept at all since their return. They have been to London and back in the course of the night and spent most of their time in discussions with people who are close to His Majesty."

"Because of me?" Harry asked.

"You were obviously the focus of their discussion, Lieutenant Potter."

Mary, Duchess of Cumberland returned Harry's smile at the use of his new rank. It would be better for this boy to be in as good a mood as possible when he was seen in public. Smiles would give the gossipers cause to spread good rumours. She paused in her thoughts as a knock was heard at the door and she called for whomever it was to enter.

"Your Grace," Father Maurice said as he entered. He gave a polite bow and the duchess curtsied in return.

"If it please Your Grace, I have been asked to have a private discussion with young Harry before we proceed to the Cathedral. I need to give him a quick lesson on etiquette, least he embarrass himself."

Her Grace nodded. "Lord Robert and I will wait in the garden."

"We will not be long, Your Grace." After they left, Father Maurice turned to Harry. "There are certain things you should know about your situation, my child."

"I know, Father," Harry said, smiling hopefully. "Robert, sorry, Lord Robert and I talked last night about some of the things I should expect." He paused, but before Father Maurice could say anything he asked an unexpected question. "Am I to be baptized?"

Father Maurice showed none of his surprise. "Why would you ask that, Harry? What did Lord Robert say to you?"

"Well, Father, he mentioned having to go to Mass, and that he gave you his confession. Then I asked him what Church he belonged to."

"I must admit that is an odd question."

"That's, um, that is what Robert said. We talked about it and we discovered another difference between our worlds. In my world we had the Protestant Reformation, and there are many different Christian religions with as many different beliefs. Your world did not have that. It is all one church. It isn't Catholic or Lutheran or even the Church of England."

Father Maurice nodded as he understood. "That does explain why almost no one made any reference to Our Lord God. With many different beliefs it is easier to keep silent then to offend someone needlessly."

"Yes Father, but it is different here. It is only one religion. And if I am going to stay here, I thought I would have to be part of it."

"The big word is IF, Harry. We do not know if you will be staying here."

"But everyone is trying to work it out so I can. Her Grace told me so."

"I am aware something is going on. I do not know what but that is beside the point. Baptism is not a matter to be taken lightly, and if you are baptized you will be expected to follow the rules of The Church, and you do not even know them."

"Babies don't know the rules, and they are baptized."

"But you are not a baby."

"In a sense I am. I entered this world less than a day ago."

Father Maurice was stunned by the argument. He uttered an old quote, "Listen to the children. They speak the words of the ages."

"Is that a yes?"

"I will make enquiries with my superiors. For now I will do this." Father Maurice uttered a prayer in Latin while he placed his hand on Harry's head. At the boy's questioning look he replied, "You expressed an interest in our religion. As you are not a member of the church, I have given you a dispensation. You may attend the services as though you did belong although you may not partake in any of the sacraments. Do you understand what I am telling you?"

Harry expressed surprised. "You came to tell me I wasn't, was not, allowed to go to church."

"You were not," Father Maurice agreed. "But now you are. And now I must explain other things to you." The priest led the boy to the door and to the gardens as he set out certain facts to Harry. The Duchess and Lord Robert helped during the ride to the cathedral. By the time the short trip was over, Harry was afraid of stepping on his own shadow.

Harry, as a Sub-Lieutenant, was an officer although of the lowest rank. Because he was in uniform, he would not be expected to act as a commoner, nor as a lord. He would bow slightly when introduced. He would never offer his hand to anyone, nor was anyone expected to offer a hand to him. He would salute all other officers. If possible he would say nothing except the most polite generalities. Worst of all, Harry had to try to remember how to address the various members of the nobility, as he would meet several of them. A knight would be pleased to be called His Grace, but a Duke would be deeply insulted to be called Sir. While it was not a hanging offense, it showed poor breeding, and would make others think less of him.

"How do you feel?" Lord Robert asked as the coach arrived.

"I can not feel a thing," Harry admitted.

"Your language skills are improving," Father Maurice said as a complement, but it did not help.

The coachman opened the door and helped the Duchess step down. Lord Robert stepped down next and the crowd outside the Cathedral stood silent for a moment. Then the applause began. A lost sheep was being welcomed back into the fold. "And next comes the black sheep," Harry said to himself as he stepped down. He waited for Father Maurice to join him, then walked with him behind his brother and Her Grace, who made frequent stops.

"They are being very polite to you," Father Maurice explained in a whisper. Harry noticed that everyone did not exactly ignore him while greeting Lord Robert, but did watch him with interest.

The priest told him "If they were offended by you, they would not bother to notice you." He quickly pointed out a man who was greeting Lord Robert at that moment and whispered to Harry. "He is a retired Commander. He is sure to look at you. When he does, salute him."

Harry waited. When the man finished speaking, he turned his head as expected. Harry gave him a proper salute and said, "Sir."

The man gave him a polite smile and returned the salute. "Lieutenant."

Father Maurice gave Harry a pat on the back to say a job well done. Harry had passed his first test. His second test came almost immediately and he was completely unprepared. A boy suddenly shouted and came running, barreling into Lord Robert. Harry watched in fascination. The boy regained control, and then excused himself to everyone. That was when he spotted Harry. The boy looked up at him with matching green eyes, and grinned as Lord Robert whispered something to him. Harry looked up at Father Maurice to find out what to do as Lord Roger de Somerset, Marquis of London, threw his arms around Harry's waist and hugged him.

"My Lord Marquis," Father Maurice said politely, while smiling at Harry's embarrassment. "It might be more circumspect to first give thanks that this reunion has taken place."

The words had their effect and Roger, Lord London let go. But Harry heard the words he said just before he did so. "Now I have two brothers."

Harry and Robert would talk again that night. Their plan had worked, and Harry was permitted to come to the Cathedral to meet Roger. They prided themselves on their cleverness.

Elsewhere, Father Maurice was having a discussion with the Archbishop of London. He had to report the failure of his task because of the unusual circumstances. He was to propose the suggestion that Lord Robert's twin be baptized, but Harry had raised the subject himself.

The Duke of Buckingham and the Dowager Duchess of Cumberland were also in conference with an old midwife, the one that had delivered Lord Robert. They made a curious proposal, and a generous offer. The midwife accepted.

A fourth conversation was taking place between The Lord Seneschal and His August Majesty, John IV.

"It is important that We be in control of this situation at all times."

"We are, Your Royal Majesty. And it has happened more easily than I thought possible. Lord Darcy's decision to have the boy enlisted in the Navy was a master stroke. By accepting his position the boy has by default declared his loyalty to yourself."

"Remember, My Lord Seneschal, We are discussing a twelve-year-old boy."

"A twelve-year-old boy with no family," The Seneschal pointed out in return. "He has shown a strong attachment for his counterpart. I believe he would do anything to remain with his brother."

"He will stay or go as WE decide," His Majesty said, then turned to look out the window. "We find it hard to believe that the Empire is shaking in its foundations because of this."

"Then let us send the boy back to his own world, and remove ourselves from there on a permanent basis." The Lord Seneschal smiled knowing that this, the easiest solution, would be the most dangerous.

In acknowledgment, His Majesty gave him a withering frown ruined by the wisp of a smile. "What good news do We have of all this?"

"Much, Your Majesty. Our man in the household overheard a conversation between the boy and the Papal Legate. The boy himself asked to be admitted into the church." John arched his eyebrows. "I suspect, Your Majesty, that he was coached as to what to say by Lord Robert de Somerset."

His Majesty nodded. "Then, if possible, we will keep them together. I assume that the Duke is making arrangements."

"As we speak." The Lord Seneschal paused. "Your Majesty, there is one item of news that may be considered good or ill, depending upon your view. The headmaster of the school was removed from his position shortly after our people left that world. I would remind you of the brief discussion last night of the status of the school. It was one of the reasons the headmaster agreed to quickly send Lord Robert home." The Admiral paused. "Professor Quirrell had returned as agreed to discuss the possibility of studying that world. When he discovered the situation, he returned with the suggestion that we bring the teacher, Professor Dumbledore, here. We can honestly claim he is a visiting scholar."

John IV nodded. "Do so. Such a man may be amenable to helping Us, for his own reasons."

"He is a good man by all reports, Your Majesty. I believe he will help us because it is the right thing to do. If we inform him of our intentions, he will agree."

"We will find out," His Majesty said. "Send word to Professor Quirrell, then go to bed. One night awake is enough. We will take Our own advice and do the same."

"I will follow your orders gratefully," the Lord Seneschal said, and bowed as His Majesty left the room.

There was one last conversation that took place that night. It was between Lord Darcy and Master Sean. Master Sean was the only one who had slept the previous night.

"Are you still in pain, Master Sean?"

"I was never in pain, Milord."

Lord Darcy looked surprised. "From the way you screamed and the grimace on your face, I would have sworn you were in some kind of pain."

"A deception of circumstance, Milord. Rather I was experiencing a feeling so powerful that it seemed painful because it was more than I could bear. When I touched Professor Dumbledore's wand, I felt power. That is the only word to describe it. I felt raw power."

Darcy nodded. "Then the wands are amplification devices."

Master Sean snorted. "That was obvious from the first and you know it. Lord Robert has enough talent that, with a great amount of training, he could perform simple spells with some chance of success. He has talent, but never enough to be worth studying the art of Sorcery. What I failed to realize, Milord, was the degree of amplification. I am only grateful that you have no talent at all." Master Sean smiled. "For magic, that is."

Lord Darcy pondered the words from his Master Sorcerer. If the wand amplified his nephew's talent to the point where, at twelve, he could readily perform magic then the amplification must be in an order of magnitude. "Master Sean, Father Maurice examined you but he saw no hint of Black Magic."

"There is none, Milord. The wand is a passive instrument. It can not do good or evil. The good or evil is done by the caster. It is the same with the boy, Harry. He received his scar through Black Magic. Through it he gains some of his power as a wizard, but he is not evil as a result. The scar is passive. I would be curious," Master Sean noted, "to find out what would happen if young Harry were to enter a church."

* * *

"I felt strange walking into the Cathedral," Harry admitted when Robert asked him what he thought of it.

"As though you were out of place?"

"It wasn't that. I could never feel out of place with you there. It was like I was missing something that was always there, but I never knew about."

"You were grinning the entire time," Robert said. "I thought you were overwhelmed. But we know you did not have a religious experience. What you described is the exact opposite."

Harry nodded. "I know that, because when we left the Cathedral I felt it again and I knew what it was. It was my scar."

Robert began to say something but paused, "Have you ever been in a church before."

"Once on a class trip. We toured Saint Paul's Cathedral."

"And?"

Harry smirked. "And what?"

Robert shook his head in exasperation "And did you feel any different."

Harry frowned as a memory returned. "It wasn't a happy occasion for me. I remember hiding so that my cousin and his friends wouldn't do anything to me. I didn't have this feeling though. This was strong enough that I would have noticed."

"That is odd," Robert commented. "I would have thought your problem was related to magic."

Now Harry felt odd at hearing Robert's statement. "Why would going into a church have an effect on magic?"

Robert looked up in stunned surprise. "Harry, I think I know another major difference between our worlds."


	13. At Sea

Chapter Thirteen: At Sea

Harry Potter awoke early on Monday morning out of necessity. Despite modern conveniences, this world still arose at dawn and slept when the sun went down. In Harry's case he had no choice. A seven-year-old boy (and nine months he would note) was shaking him awake.

"Do you always lie abed, Harry? There is a world to see." Harry looked at him in surprise but Roger added, "Robert tells me this is your first time to Cambridge. Hurry, please. The faster we are ready, the sooner we may go."

Harry glared at him. "I have had a younger brother for less than one full day and I am already sick of him."

Roger laughed and ran out of the room.

* * *

Harry walked out to the main sitting room where most everyone was. Roger, who was now Lord London because they were no longer in private, was drinking hot tea with milk while sitting in the corner by the window. Lord Robert de Somerset was sitting with him. He was no longer Lord Robert Cahill because he had been declared dead, and the title of Earl of Cahill, given to him as a courtesy, reverted to the Marquis of London, who was now his younger brother.

Sitting on the couch (although they gave it a different name) with the Duke was the Dowager Duchess of Cumberland. Her husband was Duke, and when he died the title went to his eldest son by a previous marriage. She became the Dowager Duchess, and her step-daughter-in-law became the Duchess. Harry nodded to himself as he remembered who was who in the hierarchy of the room. It helped his confidence none that the Duchess called him over and adjusted his cravat.

"Do I always have to wear this uniform?" Harry asked, then quickly added, "Your Grace."

"We will have you fitted today, so that you will have more than one," The Duke informed him, smiling because he knew that was not what Harry meant.

The Duchess was more condescending. "It is what you are, Harry. It gives you a place. I have already told you how important that is."

"Yes, Your Grace," Harry said.

"Harry," The Duke said sternly but not with anger. "I know this is new to you but please always remember who you are." He grinned slightly as he began his next line. "I know you have the lowest rank possible, but you are still an officer in His Royal Majesty's Navy. It is a position you should not take lightly."

"I understand, Your Grace." Harry had a strange feeling of warmth come over him. Something in the Duke's manner told him that he now held a position of respect and responsibility, and he would be given these if he proved himself worthy. It was a great deal to read into a few words but he was sure he understood correctly.

"If I may ask, Your Grace, Lord London told me that we were going someplace today. May I ask where?"

"After breakfast we will be returning to King's College. First we will attend the Institute, where a number of people will want to ask both you and Lord Robert every question imaginable. Afterward, time permitting, Lord London and Lord Robert will be visiting Saint Cathal's Academy. It will be a reunion of friends for Lord Robert."

Harry understood these words as well. He would not be going. It would not be proper. Harry was surprised that he was not more upset, but he did understand. There would be a time when he would fit in.

The butler entered the room. "Your Grace, breakfast is ready to be served at your leisure."

Harry followed everyone to the dining room and sat in his appointed spot, next to Lord London (with Lord Robert Somerset on the other side). Having had practice after yesterday's Mass, he felt like he knew what to do. The servant would ask each person, according to rank. When he asked Harry, Harry would say yes or no. The servant would pour his juice, or set out his eggs or bacon or whatever. Once they were done, everyone was permitted to eat. Harry learned quickly to expect his food to be warm but rarely hot.

* * *

Harry spent the most boring morning of his life. He sat in a room with a small group of people who asked him all sorts of questions, many of which seemed trivial. One thing he did discover is that he had not been born yet according to the calender in the Anglo-French Empire. For some reason, the difference in the dating system was fourteen years. This was first noted when Harry was asked when the Battle of Hastings took place and he did not answer 1052 A.D.

After three hours, he was given something to eat, then escorted back to the room, to see a new person there.

"You are out of uniform, Mister Potter, Or is this a new uniform for a new world?"

Harry grinned to see Professor Dumbledore standing there. "Sir, it is good to see you. Are you staying?"

"For a while, Harry. It seems the governors of the school were less than enthusiastic about the attacks. They felt they needed to do something." Harry understood and expressed his surprise but Dumbledore calmed him quickly. "Professor McGonagall is more than capable of handling the job, and she can contact me almost at any time if need be. I would be upset but now I have the chance to take a small vacation."

"I don't, do not," Harry admitted. "They decided to put me in the Navy, and tomorrow I have to go to a Naval Academy to see if I . . . will fit in."

"That should be interesting. To visit a different school." Dumbledore smiled but Harry did not appreciate the remark. "Don't worry, Harry, you can always say no if you don't like it."

"But I . . ."

"But you are in the Navy, and you can always resign. If this is not what you want, you do not have to do it."

"Yes, Sir," Harry said, mollified. "I think I should, Sir, go through with it. I do not fancy the idea, but I should learn what is expected of me before I decide."

"Good thinking, Harry. Never say no, or yes, until you know what you are dealing with. Now, I was wondering. Your brothers have gone off to visit old friends. Would you care to join me for a tour one of the other schools here at Kings College?"

Harry agreed, and found himself touring the School of Sorcery. Master Sorcerer Sean O'Lochlainn joined them and explained the various classes and lectures that the apprentices attended. They even sat in on a lecture on the Laws of Magic. After five minutes, Harry couldn't help thinking that Hermione would love this.

"Master Sean," Harry asked after the lecture. "Why do they spend so much time studying magical theory as apprentices? Shouldn't that be for the advanced classes?"

"Harry, we use magic differently here. We do not have the power you have in your world, so we compromise. By making subtle changes in the casting of a spell we can make them more powerful that you would expect. I understand that Lord Robert demonstrated the protective spell I helped him set. It had such a powerful effect when it was used because it could use the power of the spell it was repelling. Even in the most difficult situations that spell can be cast with no effort at all."

* * *

Monday night was spent in travel, and Harry slept as fitfully as he could. In the early morning before dawn, a Naval courier whose name he never knew, led him to His Majesty's Docks at Dover. Harry looked up as they walked the full length of a dreadnought, the HRMS Brisbane. He was to learn later that the dreadnaught was the backbone of the Naval fleet. It used no sails, but ensorcelled engines turned large propellers on their shafts and impelled the ships through the water regardless of wind. They were limited on how far they could travel only if a trained sorcerer was not on board. These were the most powerful machines of the modern age and, with refinements, had been so for the past sixty years.

As they reached the end of the pier, the courier stopped him, and pointed to the other side of the dock. He gave Harry an envelope and told him to walk forward. Harry stared briefly before he started moving. The ship he was pointed to was not a dreadnaught. It was dwarfed by comparison although still a good size in its own right. What caught Harry's attention was the fact that it had three full masts of sail. It was as though history had another collision with itself, with the seventeenth century leaping directly into the twentieth century without passing through the intervening years.

As he neared the gangplank he remembered his instructions on how to act. He saluted the nearest person and asked loudly, "Sub-Lieutenant Harry Potter reporting for duty. Permission to come aboard, Sir."

"Yer, what, one week old?" the man asked.

"I do not understand, Sir," Harry said.

"Ye did it again." This time the man laughed. "Do ye see the blue jacket I'm wearing?"

"You are wearing a white jacket."

"That's right. That makes me a Seaman. What you want to do is order me to call the officer on deck."

"Yes, Sir, sorry."

"I love the new ones," the man said to the air. "You call me Seaman, not Sir, and you never apologize to anyone below your rank, Do ye understand?"

"Yes, Seaman."

"Now, order me."

"Um, Seaman, call the officer on deck."

"Yes, Sir," the Seaman called out. "CAPTAIN GRISSOM, SIR," he barked.

"I'm right here, Davers," a slightly annoyed voice said, just out of sight of Harry. He came into view and Harry saluted. "Permission to come aboard, Sir."

"And you are?"

"Sub-Lieutenant Harry Potter, Sir, Reporting for duty."

The Captain stared at him, examining every detail about the boy, while Harry stood there. Captain Peter Grissom did not look as old as Harry expected. If he was forty, it would be a surprise. He had long brown hair, tied off in the back, and steely grey eyes. At Six foot Two, he was to be taller than most men on the ship, and his barrel chest and thick arms made him look like he was the strongest as well. Then he smiled down at Harry as though he was a joke.

"Come on up, lad. If we wait for you to get it right, we shall miss the tide."

"Yes Sir," Harry said as he almost ran up the plank. He handed his envelope with his orders to the Captain. Grissom put them in his pocket, unopened. Then he pointed to where a half dozen other boys stood, and Harry joined them.

"Is that it," The Captain asked Seaman Davers.

"One more, Sir. The last minute addition."

The Captain cast a glance at Harry.

"No Sir," Davers replied to the glance. "That one was the last minute replacement."

The Captain smiled. "For the one with the bad eyesight?"

Both men grinned. "Aye, that one, Sir."

"Oy," a voice called from the pier that Harry had recently left.

Seaman Davers looked over the side of the ship. "What ye want, Lad. Ye lost?"

"Not likely, wi' this 'un guidin' me," the voice called out. "Am yer new sailor, if ye let me up on that thing."

"Do ye know how to ask to come on board."

"If ye have a special way, I donna ken, but me Mam says ye can tell me three times

an' I donna learn, then toss me off, an don' bother lookin' fer land first."

"Captain?" Davers said. "He's ignorant and proud of it."

"Is he wearing a jacket?"

"It's as blue as yer eyes are grey, Captain."

Davers looked down at the boy, again. "I need to know yer name."

"Jamie Tarr," the boy called out.

"Right enough, Jamie, now give us your name with your rank if you know it, and ask to speak to the officer on deck."

"Yeah, Me Dad told me that. I'm Lieutenant Jamie Tarr, Jamison Tarr," the boy corrected. "Is the Captain about?"

"How do ye know the Captain is on deck?" Davers asked.

"He better be. It's his ship," Jamie answered.

Only Harry and the other Sub-Lieutenants were not laughing into their coats, but they couldn't help grinning as well.

"I'm here, Lieutenant," the Captain called out. "Come up here at once." The boy ran up the gangplank and stopped when he spied the Captain. The boy wore his uniform perfectly, and saluted in what was obviously a well-practiced manner. The Captain had to ask. "Who taught you that?"

"Me Dad, Captain Sir."

"Navy?"

"Army, Sir."

"Get with the others, boy. It is time to cast off."

"Aye, Sir. An thank ye fer havin' me."

Jamie stood next to Harry as they watched everyone around them running about. He was grateful for the circumstances that gave him this chance. The Inn and the farm were nice but Jamie had heard too many stories from his father to be happy at home. His father had traveled and he wanted to as well. He would miss his family but he would have a full life. There was a humor in the situation that no one would know about for a long time. Jamie was standing next to the person who was responsible for his good fortune, even to the point of receiving the exemption that gave him the right to be trained as an officer.

Harry, for his part, would have been surprised to find out that Jamie's father owned the Three Broomsticks, which also existed in this world.

"Each of you," the Captain said, "holds the rank of Sub-Lieutenant. What that means is that we assume that you know nothing." He looked at Jamie. "In some cases this is not an assumption." His serious grimace flickered with a smirk when Jamie grinned at the remark. "How many of you have ever been on a ship before?"

Jamie obviously did not raise his hand, nor did Harry. It was the first thing they found that they had in common.

"You," the Captain pointed to a tall blond boy. "What ship have you been on?"

"The Portsmouth, Captain, by grace of my father. He is Commander."

"Commander Farley is a good officer. You have a great deal to live up to."

The Captain went down the line, asking each boy in turn. Five of the other Six had family members in the Navy. The other was from a diplomatic family, a younger son. That left Harry and Jamie, and everyone already knew about Jamie. The Captain turned on Harry. "And why are you here?"

"I was told to come here, Captain." It was all Harry could think to say. "I took the King's Shilling."

The Captain smiled, and turned to the others. "All of you claim that you are here because of family or friends, but this one had the right of it. You are HERE because you have been ordered to be here. While you are here, you will do what you are ordered to do. If you can learn to do what you are told, you will be permitted to stay. And because all of you are OFFICERS, if you stay we will then teach you why you are doing what you are told. Look to the aft. Do all of you see the coast? DO YOU?"

"Yes, Captain," Eight voices shouted.

"Good. The coast is over there and the ship is here. This Barque is His Royal Majesty's Ship, the Hermes, 18 guns, 86 men and officers on board including eight boys who are dry behind the ears. As Captain of the Hermes, I am in complete control. You will obey every order without hesitation. You will give full attention to every instruction. And lastly. You will try to learn as much about this ship as is possible in three days time. This is a training vessel. And it has one specific purpose. At the end of three days, I will be the one to determine if any or all of you have the right to wear a Naval uniform. How many of you brought civilian clothes, just in case?"

Almost everyone again raised their hands. The only exception was Harry. The Captain made note of the fact then continued.

"Each of you is to be assigned to a Lieutenant or midshipman. He will be your instructor. He will answer all of your questions and tell you what you need to know. As a rule, all of you will dine together and take certain lessons together after meals, but those are the exceptions, and there are exceptions to those. Otherwise, you have the same schedule as your officer-instructor."

It was no surprise when the Commander chose the boy, Farley. The First Lieutenant chose Jamie, impressed by his brashness and apparent willingness to learn. Each officer made their choice for whatever reason, until Harry, the ignorant boy with glasses, was standing by himself.

"We did have an extra, Captain," Davers said. "He'd make a good Seaman."

"Mister Davers," Captain Grissom said quietly. "We are away from the docks and you have finished playing your role. You are dismissed."

"Yes, Captain," Seaman Davers said, and saluted as he left.

The Captain looked at Harry with amusement. "Do you know why no one picked you?"

"No, Captain."

"It is because you are the unknown quantity. Everyone else had cause to be here. The officers know they will try. But not you. You are here because you were told to come here. If someone had said go someplace else, you would have. Am I right?"

"Yes, Captain," Harry answered sullenly, but saw that the Captain expected more. "I can not say more, Sir."

"Best remain an unknown quantity then? Do you know what a Sub-Lieutenant is?"

"No, Captain."

Captain Grissom nodded. "There are the general officers: Myself, Commander Tanner and the Lieutenants. We outrank you. Do you understand so far?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Then we have the midshipmen. These are the Chief Petty officer, the Ship's Chirurgen, the Quartermaster and so on. They outrank you as well. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, Captain."

"You are an officer in the smallest sense of the word. You can remain an officer, or you can leave. It all depends on how you do. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, Captain."

"What can you do?"

"I don't understand, Captain? I do not understand, Captain?"

"That's right, Harry. Don't use contractions. Poor breeding and all that." The Captain smiled for the first time. "I will teach you myself. I have not done that in a long time. We will see what you have inside of you. Take your boots off."

Harry started to ask why but he saw the Captain taking his boots off, and his stockings. Harry quickly followed suit, and a minute later they both stood barefoot on the deck. The Captain smiled at his own private joke.

"First, you need an overview of the ship. Follow me."

The Captain walked over to the rigging tied to the main mast, pulled himself up and started climbing. Harry tried to follow but did so slowly, trying to adjust for the movement of the ship. When he finally reached the topgallant, where the rigging met the highest spar of the mast, the Captain pointed down and began to recite names of the various parts of the deck below them and of the sails around them. Then he told Harry to repeat them. Harry tried, and was corrected when he was wrong. For over an hour, they stayed up there, until both Harry and the Captain were sure he could name the proper parts of the ship. As a compliment the Captain told Harry, "The one thing I can not stand is sending someone to the quarterdeck and then being asked where it is. You do not know yet what to do when you get there, lad, but at least you know where you are going. We'll go down now."

The Captain grabbed the shroud (a rope hanging down the side of the mast) and began to lower himself down hand over hand. Harry started to follow but paused as he understood something. The Captain was not showing off. This was part of his job. He has to know everything about the ship and to be able to do as much of it as possible. With this thought in mind, he followed the Captain with a determination that surprised even himself. He climbed down the shroud faster and easier than he thought possible, and when he reached the bottom a Seaman handed him his boots.

"Where to now, Sir?" Harry asked.

"Below decks, then the noon meal," Grissom answered.

* * *

Lunch was mostly bread and meat with water to drink. Enough to fill you up and hold you for the rest of the day. Then all eight boys were brought to the aft deck and each given a sextant, a compass, a scope and other personal items that an officer might need. The First Mate gave the instructions. At Four Bells, the class was dismissed and Harry went below decks to report back to the Captain.

"Do you remember everything from this morning?"

"I remember where the Quarterdeck is, Captain."

"Good enough. Did you notice that the last Seaman you passed did not salute you?"

Harry's look gave the answer. The Captain made no further comment. It was deliberately done to see how the new officers would react.

"Report to the Pilot for instruction. You are free at eight bells."

Harry saluted and left to go to the designated station. As he walked out, he spied the seaman the Captain commented about. The man was grinning from ear to ear as he raised his hand to salute an officer.

* * *

Harry went down to the quarters for the trainees, happy to be off of his feet for a few minutes. He noticed one boy sleeping and looked questioningly. The boy Farley answered.

"He was picked by the third mate. He has to do everything we do, but at night."

"At least he won' be burned," Jamie Tarr said, turning a red face to the rest of them.

"I need to wash up," Harry answered, to change the subject.

Farley smiled. "I noticed. The Captain is taking care of you personally instead of doubling you up."

Harry returned the grin. "It makes the instructor look bad if one of his charges does not pass."

"That is beside the point," another boy, Brennan, told them. "I was listening to what the seamen were saying. Potter, they say Grim Pete likes you."

"Grim Pete?"

"That is their name for him," Brennan said, then paused, and spoke with surprise. "You did not notice? He ran you all over the ship to see how well you would hold up. Even the officers were commenting."

"They are right, Potter," Farley added. "Commander Tanner told me that the Captain picked you. Remember the way he looked at you when you told him why you were here? He was trying to run you off of the ship." Farley paused. "Or perhaps make you run it."

As it was their fortune, not necessarily good, Lieutenants Farley and Potter were required to attend the Captain for dinner because of who their instructors were. They arrived early as directed and the Captain called them to where he stood over the charts. He then spent the next hour making sure both boys knew how to plot positions.

Dinner was anticlimactic. It was a simple meal of roast beef and potatoes with a mix of vegetables. The only difference from their noon meal seemed to be that it was served on nicer plates. It was the discussion that was interesting. Potter and Farley listened as the officers gave their first impressions. Jamie was winning everybody's heart by his enthusiasm and was the clear favorite. Farley blushed slightly as he was praised by more than one officer. Harry sat back, waiting to hear the comments about him. Finally, the Second Lieutenant asked.

"Captain, we were curious about Potter. We have been watching you . . . and him."

"He does what he is told," the Captain said, and left it at that.

"Am I missing something," Harry asked of Ben after they left the Captain's Quarters. After being with him for three hours straight, they finally had a chance to trade first names.

"You are the bright star in the Captain's eye, Harry," Farley told him. "Everyone is talking about you. When you followed him aloft this morning, they were amazed at how you handled yourself."

"What do you mean? I was barely half as fast as the Captain."

"What about that time you almost slipped?"

"I do not remember slipping."

Benjamin Farley grinned. "You did not. Which is the point I am trying to make. When you were climbing, you were shifting your weight to match the roll of the ship. No landsman knows to do that." He stopped walking and turned to Harry. Pointing his finger, he said, "you, Harry Potter, are a natural sailor. All you need to do is learn what to do. That is what the Captain said."

"He said I do what I am told."

"Quite right, Harry. The rest of us merely try."

* * *

Hermione Granger, at a later date, would explain everything. Of course he would be good at sailing. He was a natural at flying, which was the same thing as sailing but with two more directions. Harry felt he had to add that flying had only one more direction if you were a poor sailor. He also had to add that there was a great deal more to learn about a ship than a broom.

* * *

It was dawn the second day, when Harry walked up on deck. The captain was there already, taking note of how the two boys training under the Third Lieutenant and Third Mate had done. As Harry approached, a voice called out from the topgallant. "Ship to Starboard."

The Captain walked to the Starboard side of the ship and pulled out his lensed scope, extending it fully. He looked at Harry and smiled when Harry went to pull out his scope as well.

"Do you see her?" Captain Grissom asked.

"I can make her out, Sir," Harry admitted. He reviewed what he had learned during his class the day before, noting that the ship seemed to have two masts. "I make her to be a brigantine, Captain."

"And what flag?"

"Sorry, Sir," Harry said as he lowered his scope and put his glasses back on, "I could not see a flag. My eyes, Sir."

"Very good, Potter." The Captain looked around and saw Farley and two other of the trainees. "Do you have your scopes? There is a ship out there. A ration of rum to which of you first spies her flag?"

The three quickly pulled out their scopes, and scanned the horizon as the Captain called all hands to station. Farley spoke first. "There is none, Captain. She has no flag." He turned to the Captain in surprise. "She's a Privateer."

"Very good, Farley,"

"Captain," The second boy cried out. "She spotted us. She's moving."

"Don't worry lad. This is her lucky day. We will report sighting her but my orders are not to pursue."

"Captain, she's moving toward us."

"Davers," Captain Grissom called, and the man came running. "Give the spotter my scope and have him confirm movement."

Commander Tanner walked up. "What do you think, Captain?"

"I think we are facing the most dangerous man in the world, or the biggest fool. A Barque has not been a fighting ship since the first dreadnaught rolled out of the dockyards. We are definitely not a fishing vessel or a merchant ship."

"Do you think he knows who we are? He might be after us for his own ego?"

"Damn that man. We are only a training ship as an excuse to sail. Otherwise we would be held back for pretty pageants and such things."

"Captain?"

As Harry knew from the night before, they had been sailing south and turned southeast during the night. They would be east of Grenada, as Spain was known as in this world.

Grissom looked to starboard and cursed. He then turned to the Commander and gave orders. "Full Sail. Keep her to the wind as much as possible. If we can keep full sail, we can outrun her."

Harry was grabbed by the bosun' mate and given the task of helping with the ropes. Everyone quickly took their places and faster than he could have believed, the ship was under sail in a somewhat easterly direction.

* * *

"The Dreadnaughts should be out by now," The Chief Purser said over dinner on the fourth day of flight.

"And where do they look?" the Captain asked. "We are off the shipping lanes, and each day the brigantine gains on us. We are faster, but she has engines and can ignore the wind if needs be."

"Captain?" The First Lieutenant asked. "Have you given any thought to why?"

"That is easy. We are a pretty prize and an easy catch. They do not mean to sink us. They mean to take us. The question is where do they want to take us."

"Sir?"

"Potter?"

"How much longer will it be?"

"Until they catch us? I should think noon, the day after tomorrow. If the wind changes again, it will be earlier than that. You have plenty of time to say your prayers."

"It isn't that, Captain. I am supposed to meet my brother on Friday."

"Then you had best write your brother to let him know you will be late."

Amid the laughter, Harry chirped back. "I think he will figure it out, Sir."

* * *

The wind held, and the ships were well into the Atlantic when the brigantine finally caught up. A sudden wind change brought the Hermes to, and nothing could be done. It had been a full week since the Hermes left port.

As the other ship closed, Harry felt the seriousness of his situation. The Hermes was going to engage the privateer in combat. If one twelve-year-old boy with glasses was unlucky, his training might come to an end. To add to his anticipation, someone had handed him a revolver.

Harry examined his revolver. It contained seven shots, and it appeared to have no safety. He looked at Farley who was examining his own revolver.

"I don't think this is part of the training," he told Harry.

"You don't think?" Harry asked in surprise.

"Breeding isn't everything." Both boys felt good to laugh.

"HEAVE TO," the Captain shouted. The Privateer had come almost completely along side of them, but without weapons drawn.

"I call the Captain of the Hermes," a man shouted, his voice strange with accent.

"Identify yourself and your purpose," Captain Grissom called.

"I call for your surrender," the captain of the privateer shouted gleefully. "And I have three sorcerers who can enforce my will." He pointed to the armed officers of the Hermes and smiled broadly.

Harry watched in surprise as everyone began dropping their weapons. When he pointed this out to Farley, he noticed that his own revolver had fallen out of his hands without him realizing it. Then he noticed that the Captain was not holding his sword. "It's a spell," Harry thought.

"Ben, how do you fight a magic spell if you are not a wizard?"

"What do you mean?"

"We can not hold our revolvers. I tried but I can not be bothered to pick it up, but when I close my eyes to break free from it . . . The spell returns the instant I open them."

"You have the right of it, Potter," Farley said as he closed his eyes. "I can feel that the spell is gone." He began to bend down to the deck. "Direct me."

From some short distance away, he heard the Third Lieutenant, only four years older than he was, call out softly, "a smart move, lads."

Farley found his revolver and picked it up. As he straightened up, Harry directed him on where to point. He also mentioned that most of the others were following what they were doing.

"Pull back the hammer, Farley." Harry reminded him, and they almost laughed at the seriousness of it all. His eyes tightly shut, Farley was ready on a single order to fire his revolver and hopefully kill a man. And Harry realized he was ready to forward that order if need be, and help to pick out the next target.

All this time the enemy captain was smiling at how easily he had taken control of the situation, and had already set up the boarding ramps. But Captain Grissom had more than one trick up his sleeve. He stomped twice on the deck in an oft used signal. The gun ports opened and nine cannons poked their heads out of the nine ports.

"I have my cannons set to sink you, if you say the word."

Grissom's smile was as cruel as the enemy captain's, but neither man wavered.

"My sorcerer's are strong, Captain."

"But they are men, and your crew will have to fight. They have to come aboard my ship to fight. That means that your sorcerers have to cancel their spells."

Commander Tanner's voice was heard clearly from the fore, "All armed and waiting your command, Captain."

The triumphant grin vanished as the captain of the brigantine saw the armed men, standing in pairs. Grissom smiled as the enemy captain realized his blunder. His decisive plan was now nothing more than a bluff. His sorcerers could keep the spell active as long as they wanted and it would not matter. There would be no easy surrender.

Then Grissom spoke again.

"Captain, I will make you an offer. Surrender your ship and I will grant a pardon to all of your men and officers who have no other crimes than this one listed against them in the Empire. All others I will let sail in one of the lifeboats, to take their chances."

The captain nodded thoughtfully, looking at the nine cannons and the score of arms facing him. Certain death or a slim chance at survival. The choice was easy but not for himself. "I will accept under one condition," he said, his tone revealing his defeat. "The seamen on board are conscripts, they mean nothing. I only ask for parole for my officers."

Captain Grissom nodded. "My previous condition must stand. Not if they already have crimes registered against them."

"I accept," the Captain said with finality, "but not for myself. Until now you have not known my name, but if I return home, I will be remembered . . ." He raised his pistol to his temple and pulled the trigger.

At once the spell that was holding the crew was gone as the sorcerers panicked, and Farley and the others were told they could open their eyes. Movement began almost immediately. The boarding planks were used to reverse purpose, and the brigantine boarded. Harry, as the Captain's pupil, followed him aboard the enemy ship to make an inspection. He ended up staring at almost everything. The ship had two masts, but it also had an engine to permit it to travel under its own power if need be. The Captain also made it a point to explain to Harry what he was seeing, particularly when they toured the engine room The Hermes was the old style, what all ships once were. The dreadnaughts were the future, when there were enough trained sorcerers. The unnamed privateer was the norm. Sails whenever practicable, with an engine for when the wind died or changed. An occasionally used ensorcelled engine would not have to have its spell renewed as frequently as a constantly used engine.

The junior officers of the captured ship complied easily enough with the instructions, but the several senior officers, and the sorcerers on board, actually demanded the right to stock the lifeboat. Captain Grissom was clear in his intent. By accepting the offer of the lifeboat, these men were admitting they were criminals. They could either get into the boat or be shot on the spot. Twelve men climbed into the boat and were left hundreds of miles from the nearest land, land where the King's Men would be watching for them.

The saddest thing was the crew. Many of them were afraid, because of the stories that had been told. But once they found out about the lifeboat, the crew of the brigantine were willing to do anything to help. Most of them also asked for asylum rather than be returned to their homelands.

As Grissom examined the Captain's log, he pointed to the eagle crest on the cover. "You should know, Potter, this is one of his Slavonic Majesty's ships. It is ironic to think that she managed to run the blockade to fall to our hands."

"Blockade, Sir?" Harry asked before he realized he should not have.

Grissom turned to the young Lieutenant with a glare in his eyes. "How ignorant is it possible for one man to be? Even one at your age? Did you grow up in a cave? Where you shunted into a closet as an embarrassment? Did you . . ."

Grissom stopped when he saw Harry's reaction to the word closet. "Damn and Blast," the Captain cursed as he understood the secret of his young charge. "Lieutenant, from now on I order you to tell me any reference you do not understand. I can tolerate stupidity but not ignorance."

"Yes, Sir."

"I have a book of history, Imperial Naval History, but it will give you the basic facts. You will read it cover to cover."

"Yes, Sir." This time Harry gave an embarrassed smile.

Harry did read the book. That is how he first learned about the nature of the Polish empire.

His Slavonic Majesty, Sigismund III, had been thwarted in his expansion to the east by the formation of the Russian Confederation and could not use his armies effectively, having alienated all of his neighbors and forced them to arm against him. In '39, his attempt to break through the blockade of the Baltic became a fiasco, and his Navy a laughingstock. He turned to the only other method left to him: espionage.

His Slavonic Majesty developed a very efficient intelligence system. The Militia handled internal security, making sure the loyal subjects stayed in line, and the Foreign Office handled external affairs. This consisted of a well-trained group of spies and saboteurs, the Serka. And his main target was his largest enemy, the Anglo-French Empire. His son, Casimir IX, was continuing his father's work.

Privateers were a nuisance for the most part. The Navy would sink or capture them and make no effort to complain, not that it would matter. That this privateer was captured was of little surprise, but that it chased its prey for so long was more than suspect. No one said anything, but Harry had the distinct feeling that it might be because of him.

As they set sail back to port, the prize ship aside them under the command of Captain Tanner, Harry stood on the mizzen and watched the lifeboat fade into the distance. The Captain made it a point to come up behind him. "It looks like a storm is coming up from the west. We should be able to run out of its path."

"They are going to die, Captain."

"We all die in the end, Potter. Sometimes we get to choose our time."

"Their Captain. I never saw a man die before."

"He made a mistake and lost his ship. It is part of life. What we are is always the result of the choices we make, not necessarily what we know. We have to learn to choose wisely."

Harry nodded. "A teacher told me that last year. I thought he was trying to show me how good I was."

Captain Grissom nodded. "Good men and evil use the same tools, Harry. And the Captain, by his standards, was not even an evil man. He did his job, and I did mine. Our paths crossed and I won out."

"You did have the advantage," Harry pointed out. "You had nine cannons ready to fire."

"Nonsense, Harry," Captain Grissom said as he walked away. "This is a training ship. We do not carry powder."

Harry grabbed the rail as he understood what the other captain's blunder was.

* * *

It was early in the day when they returned to port. The three full days at sea had lasted fifteen days. Harry stood by as the Captain ordered, awaiting his next instructions. The gangwalk was lowered and Harry noticed two of his classmates leaving the ship. They were not wearing uniforms. He took a deep breath when he understood what this meant. He had passed his initiation.

"We made it," Nathan Brennan said as he walked up to Harry, still in uniform. They were now the only trainees left on board the Hermes. Four of them had transferred to the brigantine.

"I saw the others leave," Harry commented, and Brennan nodded.

"You should not think poorly of them, Potter. I know that, well, you know."

Brennan's manner told Harry more than his words. Both boys who left received more training than they expected. They wanted to leave. Twelve is not a good age to face death, and if Harry had somewhere to go, he might have left as well.

The Captain came up and saluted the two boys, then dismissed them, saying they would receive their instructions, and they were led to the gangwalk. Harry admitted his confusion.

"We were supposed to go home," Brennan said. "And in one week come back for our review. Did they explain anything to you?"

"Nothing," Harry admitted, and both boys had to laugh.

"Lieutenants," The dock master called out as they approached. "Are you from the Hermes?" When both boys nodded, he pointed them to a nearby barracks. "By the Admiral's command, you have use of the facilities. Leave your bags. Your clothes will be cleaned for you."

It took four hours, but Harry was back in a clean uniform, and two weeks of salt and dirt were gone. He and Brennan were not the only ones to be grateful. Every Officer and Seaman, once free of duty, was given the use of a barracks. Being the trainees, they were lucky to be first.

They stepped out of the barracks and Harry was immediately tackled in the stomach by a seven-year-old boy (and nine and a half months he would note).

"Roger," Harry called out in surprise as his fellow trainee took a step back to give them room.

Roger looked up at him, tears in his eyes, then hugged him fiercely. "I thought we lost you. You were gone so long." When he stopped, he kept hold of Harry's hand as though afraid he would disappear again.

"We had the compass backward," Harry said, trying to be casual. "We went to New England by mistake."

Harry looked up and Robert was grinning at him. "New England is nice this time of year."

The tall man next to Robert bowed slightly and introduced himself as Lord Bontriomphe, Legal Guardian of the Somerset family by order of His Majesty. "That includes you, My Lord."

"I should introduce you," Harry said, remembering his companion. "This is Lieutenant Brennan. We served together during our training."

"My Lords," Brennan said stiltedly.

"I assume you are untitled?" Lord Bontriomphe asked as politely as he could, and Brennan nodded. "If what I have heard is true, that will be rectified in time, Lieutenant. Permit me to finish the introductions. This is Lord Robert, the elder twin, and the boy who has latched onto his brother is the Marquis of London, no less. He will let go eventually."

Brennan smiled at that, and Lord Robert took it upon himself to ask the question. "Is it true, Lieutenant, that you captured a prize?"

"The captain helped," he replied.

A/N: I do appreciate the number of people that are reading this story. I have to admit that I wish more of you would review, but that is something that is true of every writer.

I did want to make one comment about this chapter because of the possibility that many readers have seen the movie, "Master and Commander." At the point that this Chapter had been written, the movie had not come out. Also, despite my interest in Napoleonic Warfare, I had manages to never here of Patrick O'Brian. As a result of the movie, and reading the first few books by O'Brian, I had edited the story to try to make sure the characters did not seem too similar. I have probably failed, but I did try.


	14. Review

Chapter Fourteen: Review

It was Thursday afternoon. Harry was dressed in his uniform and standing outside a courtroom with the five other trainees. They were being called to stand before the Commodore one by one for their reviews. Nathan Brennan was first. He came out smiling. He had received a notation of commendation for being part of the capture of the privateer. He was also given leave for two weeks then told to report to the Calais, when it docked at the Naval Yard.

"I'm on a dreadnaught. My first ship."

Jamie Tarr was called in, and then there were four. Jamie came out with a grin. He had to go to Scotland, to the Yards near the Firth of Forth. They were going to train him further but he could not elaborate.

Then there were three, then two.

Ben Farley and Harry Potter waited, then were told to enter together. The Commodore sat at a table with two captains on either side of him, with Captain Grissom sitting in a chair at the side. He looked at the report then turned to Captain Grissom. "These are the two?"

"They are, Commodore."

The Commodore looked at Farley. "Your father is Commander Sir William Farley, is he not."

"Yes, Sir."

He turned to Harry. "And you are Lord Henry Somerset."

Harry was slightly startled, but recognized the name. "Yes, Sir."

"Why did you not inform the Captain of your station?"

Harry was at a loss of what to say. He could hardly admit without explanation that he did not know.

"If I may be permitted to speak, Commodore," Ben Farley said, and received a nod. "I asked Lord Henry that same question. He told me that he did not want to be judged by his family. He even asked my aid in helping the others to think of him as merely Harry." Farley gave Harry a wink.

The Commodore nodded respectfully. "That was commendable of you, Lieutenant Somerset. And who signed you on board as this Harry Potter?"

Harry tried to remember his relationships but his mind was fluttering. "That, um, The Duke of Cambridge, Commodore. He is the Godfather to my brother, Lord London." Harry started kicking himself for sounding so pompous, but it seemed to work. The Commodore gave him a look of complete understanding, which only confused Harry all the more.

"Which of you discovered the means of defeating the sorcery that was cast."

Both boys said the same thing at the same time. "He did, Sir." This caused everyone else in the room to laugh.

"It was Potter, Sir," Ben Farley said, "Lieutenant Somerset, Sir. He noticed the spell did not affect him when he closed his eyes."

The Commodore turned to Harry.

"It was Lieutenant Farley, Commodore, who immediately understood the implications and began to reach for his revolver. I was still trying to figure out how to put an end to the spell. He figured out how to work around it."

"Honesty is a most commendable virtue," The Commodore told them. He looked at Farley. "And so is lying to cover a friend's social blunder. Very commendable." He picked up a rolled parchment with a heavy wax seal attached, and stood up.

Farley was motioned forward, and everyone else in the room stood up as well. The Commodore handed him the parchment. "By order of His Royal Majesty, for exemplary duty in the service of the empire, you are to be entered into the Order of the Chevalier. You will report to the Naval Office in London on June 23." As he shook hands with the surprised Lieutenant, he added, "If you have any questions on what to expect you may ask your father. He is in the Order as well, if I am correct."

"He is, Commodore," Farley said, awed by what had happened.

"You earned it, boy," the Commodore said. "It was a near thing at best and you turned the tables. You deserve the honour."

"Yes, Sir," Farley said and stepped back into place, still grinning.

The Commodore turned to Harry and said lightly, "You already have a title. Another one will not mean much to you. Therefore, you have a different reward. You are relieved of duty until the First day of July. That should give you enough time to take care of family matters. You will then report to my office as to further instructions."

"Thank you, Sir. The time will be useful."

"There is one more point I must make, least you think too much of it. Regardless of what position either of you may hold, both of you are considered to be Lieutenants of Rank. Is that understood?"

Ben Farley smiled, but Harry did not. Captain Grissom shook his head. "It means, Harry, you are a career officer. You are stuck with us." He smiled. "But you also get half pay when you are on leave." He read the look on Harry's face. "By God's Good Grace, lad. You never thought about being payed?"

"In that case, never mind," the Commodore said. "We can save the money."

Harry was still blushing with embarrassment when someone handed him one of his newly cleaned jackets. They had changed the insignia to that of a full Lieutenant.

* * *

"Are you a real officer?" Roger asked, as they sat in the train compartment, on their way back to London.

"I am," Harry said, feeling pride at the way his brother looked at him. He enjoyed having a real family.

"His talent does run in the family, you know," Lord Bontriomphe said, expressing his own pride in how Harry handled himself. "I am satisfied that he did not become an embarrassment to you, My Lord."

Roger gave a frown as he thought on something, then smiled. "You mean Lord James."

"Excuse me, Lord Bontriomphe. Who is Lord James?"

Lord Bontriomphe was surprised, then remembered Harry's secret. "Have you ever heard of the Bristol?"

"I have, My Lord. When I was on the Hermes, after we captured the privateer, I heard several of the men referring to myself and Farley as Bristol Boys. I also heard them using a phrase: They stood fast like Bristol Men. I did not understand the reference until I read a book on Naval History that Captain Grissom loaned me."

Lord Bontriomphe smiled. "You should relate that anecdote to His Grace the next time you see him. He will appreciate knowing that his son is well remembered."

Harry nodded, "Lord James was his son, and he was on the Bristol?"

"He commanded the Bristol. Do you know your connection to him, Lord Henry?"

"Not really," Harry admitted.

"The Duke was the eldest child in his family, and Lord James was his only son. The Duke's brother, after whom Lord Robert is named, was born fifteen years after the Duke. Lord Robert's daughter, Jessica, was your mother. I assumed you knew their names, but I may have been wrong."

"Thank you for telling me, My Lord. As you well know, I never had the chance to know either of my parents."

* * *

When the train reached London, Harry disembarked with his family and began walking to the waiting coach which would take him home. He paused when he spied Nathan Brennan ahead of him. The boy was greeting his parents. Harry pointed him out to Roger. "We trained together, you know. It was only two weeks but it seemed much longer than that."

"Is he the one that helped you?"

"That was Farley. You met Brennan when you came to Dover."

Roger frowned. "You never showed me the one who helped you."

"I did not know it was that big a thing," Harry admitted. "Next time I save the Empire, I promise that you will be the first to know."

"I want to meet him," Roger decided in the firm voice of a seven-year-old (who will assure you that he will be eight in nine weeks).

"My Lord?" Robert asked of their guardian. "It would be nice to know the friends that Lord Henry makes."

Lord Bontriomphe nodded, happy in the thought that he could finally return to work in the morning. One more indulgence would not be too much. "I will ask his parents to dine with us. As their son served with Lord Henry it will not be amiss."

Lord Robert grinned. "I understand, My Lord. It would not be proper to talk in the streets with common people."

"Do not tease me, Robert. I will have none of it. It would not be polite to engage them in conversation on the street. Think of them, having to follow protocol in public. In private we may wave such niceties and enjoy each other's company."

Lord Bontriomphe walked forward. "Goodman Brennan, Lieutenant Brennan, My Good Lady, I am Lord Bontriomphe, legal guardian of the children of the Somerset family."

Lieutenant Brennan bowed politely. His mother curtsied and his father bowed deeply.

"Thank you for the courtesy, but I must impose upon you. If it is not inconvenient to you, My Lord the Marquis of London has asked if you will join us for dinner. He would very much like to meet his brother's fellow officer."

"Daniel?" Mrs. Brennan said as she put her hand on her husband's arm. She thrilled at the chance to dine with a Lord.

"I thank you, My Lord," Daniel said hesitantly. He was not a rich man. He had his shop to get back to. It was only because of what happened that he came to meet his son in London. Otherwise he would have stayed in Manchester. But his wife had been so worried. He looked at her and saw her eyes. This was a rare chance. "We would be delighted, My Lord."

"Where should I send the coach, Goodman Brennan?"

"Uh, My Lord, we were not planning on staying."

"May I suggest that you join us for the afternoon as well," Lord Bontriomphe offered. He was intruding. It would be wrong to embarrass this family. He did not wait for an answer. He summoned the coachman and ordered him to take the luggage, and to hire a second coach immediately. He then turned to the Brennans and smiled to let them know he understood. Lord Bontriomphe was always proud of being proper in all things. (Harry and Robert would joke behind his back that he was born at the age of thirty-two.)

The three boys had walked up at this point, and Harry caught his friend's eye. "Nathan."

"Harry," Nathan replied. "My Lord Lieutenant," he said suddenly and saluted.

Harry returned the salute with a puzzled look until Nathan gave him a telling look and nodded toward his shoulder. Lieutenant Brennan was saluting a superior officer.

Lord Bontriomphe smirked. "It seems Lieutenant Brennan that you have read the newspaper. Lord Henry has not."

Harry groaned. Something else had happened that he knew nothing about. "What is it?"

Nathan reached under his jacket and pulled out the local newspaper, and showed him the headline.

"FOUNDLING SON LOST AT SEA, RETURNS. PRIVATEER SEIZED."

* * *

"Everyone knows all about me?" Harry asked. He had offered to ride with the Brennan's and was accepted, but then Roger wanted to ride as well. It was Robert's idea that all four boys ride together. Lord Bontriomphe was very easy to manipulate.

"It was obvious you knew nothing about this, Harry. And it explains a great deal about your lack of knowledge of most things. I was surprised when I was given a copy to read. Remember, this paper is two days old."

Harry nodded. Robert, sitting next to him put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Now you know how I felt, dear brother. Knowing that everyone around you knew more than I did. It was a happy day when my memory returned."

"I am ignorant, not forgetful," Harry said, but smiled just the same.

They arrived at the townhouse to a peculiar sight. Lord Bontriomphe was lending his hand to Goodwoman Brennan, and all three adults were laughing at some shared jest. In the short ride from the station, the stodgiest man in London had made it so that two social inferiors felt completely relaxed in his presence.

"I did not know he could do that," Robert admitted.

"I think he is on to us," Roger said in agreement.

Harry looked at Nathan. "I have no idea what they are talking about."

Nathan grinned. "The matters of Great Lords have always been too much for my simple mind."

Dinner was a relaxed affair. Harry learned that his friend's father owned a leathershop in Manchester, where he was apprenticed. "I have an Uncle in the Navy. He is always First Lieutenant on any ship he serves, and he expects to be Commander within the next year, two at the most. I happened to tell him that I loved ships the last time I had seen him, and he remembered that remark, even though I was seven at the time.

"My uncle had joined the Navy when he was my age, and I suppose he thought I would do the same. He never said how he did it, but one of his superiors wrote a letter of endorsement for me and forwarded it to Naval Enlistment. I found out when a marine walked into the shop and asked for me. ME. BY MY NAME. No one ever asked for me by my name or anything else. He handed me the letter which said I had been accepted and where and when to report.

"I admit that I was wide-eyed after reading it, and I handed the letter to my father." Daniel Brennan nodded, smiling at the memory. They were going to make his son an officer. "I looked at Father, trying to gauge his reaction but his face told me nothing. Then the marine cleared his throat, and I turned to look at him. He was holding something in his hand. The King's Shilling. I stared at it. That coin was frightening and beautiful at the same time. To touch it would change my life forever. I was afraid. Afraid of what father might think. Afraid of what mother would say. But most of all, I was afraid of what would happen if I said no.

"I grabbed that coin so quickly I surprised everyone, including myself. I squeezed it as hard as I could to make sure it would not disappear on me, and . . . the marine saluted me. Tears were running down my cheeks, my eyes would not stop them as I returned the salute. It was the first decision I ever made for myself."

Harry smiled as memories filled his head. In a sense, the same thing happened to him, but it wasn't a marine. It was Hagrid. He had turned his head that day as he walked out the door of the hut and asked, "Are you coming?"

"I want to join the Navy," Lord London said after a pause.

Lord Bontriomphe did not laugh despite the desire to do so. "You can not. You are the Marquis of London. You have your responsibilities. You may not run off as you please."

"It is not that exciting," Harry said to console his little brother. "You look at water most of the time and eat raw fish and stale bread."

"Is that true?" Lord London asked of Nathan Brennan, who had captivated the room with his tale.

"Not for me, My Lord," Nathan replied.

Robert watched his brother search for his next question. "Perhaps, Lieutenant Brennan, you could tell Lord London what it was like for you, being at sea."

Nathan's eyes unfocused as he remembered all the recent events.

"Everything was an adventure for me. I had been on a ship once before. My uncle took me out on a Naval Cutter as it did its patrol of the port, but now I was traveling to Dover, where the dreadnaughts were. My first day on board was a dream. I was helping in a small way to sail a ship. Every thing that happened was a new experience. I never wanted it to end." He looked at the Marquis. "I never want it to end."

"What happened the second day?" Lord London asked, hoping to hear more than Harry had ever told him.

Nathan nodded. "I was making my way to the main deck when the call to All Stations came. All I could do was stand out of the way as everyone rushed around me. All the sails were let out and within minutes we were underway, heading east. I thought it was a drill but I saw the look on the Captain's face. I raised my scope and looked in the direction he was facing, to the aft, and saw the ship, a Brigantine that was flying no flag. In moments I was told that she had spied us and was in pursuit. We had no means of defense, but we had speed and we tried to run." Roger obliged the story by gasping at that point.

"That first day of flight the winds were haphazard. The privateer had only two masts but she had engines and, as we found later, sorcerers on board her to keep them running. She was slower but her speed was steady. She was near the horizon at morning, but had closed within two miles as the sun set. We tried flying in the dark but the sky remained clear and the moon was filling the night. Every seaman on board cursed the fair weather that night. But then we caught the wind, full and strong, and the game of cat and mouse began anew. Dawn the second day saw them twice as far away.

"But winds are always fickle and can never be counted on for long. The privateer would not lose us and would not give up the chase. We were well off our charts and sailing where we would not be easily found, and she, that devil craft, stood between us and friendly port.

"All that day and night and the next as well, the winds would ebb and flow. We were turned, but north not west and could not spare the time for ought but our flight. For six days and six nights we kept our race, but it was the seventh day that sealed our fates. As the sun rose to its zenith, the winds died. There was no shift of breeze. Only silence. And the distant hum of the privateer. We were caught and all hope seemed lost."

"But you had guns," Roger cried. "The newspapers said you had guns."

Nathan smiled. "Eighteen Cannons, all fifteen pounders. But we were a training vessel. Training officers. We had no need to supply the cannons, and carried no powder. We had eighteen useless pieces of metal beneath our feet." Roger frowned, trying to puzzle it out, but Nathan was into his tale. "They did not know that we did have Grim Pete as our Captain. And he would not go easily. He had all the rifles and revolvers passed out so that every officer was armed. Anyone without a firearm had a sword or a club or anything to fight with. The word at sea is to hold fast. If you hold to the ropes you will not be lost to the sea in storm or gale. But now the word was to stand. If you stand fast, you can win the day. At the least, you win your honour."

"What happened then?" a voice asked, and Lord Robert looked up in surprise as he realized he was the one who had spoken.

Nathan grinned. "Remember the sorcerers I told you about. As their ship came up, they cast a spell, and everyone dropped their weapons without a thought. The men of the Privateer set up their boarding ramps without anyone stopping them. But when their Captain stood up and demanded our surrender, Grim Pete laughed at him. Grim Pete lifted his foot and stomped on the deck. The men below were not caught in the spell and opened the ports. Nine useless pieces of iron poked out, but the Privateer did not know that, and their Captain paused. Then Harry did the unthinkable. As all of this was happening, he closed his eyes."

"He didn't," Roger cried, refusing to believe such a thing.

"He closed his eyes, and he smiled, My Lord. He had discovered the fatal flaw. As long as we watched them we could hold no weapon, but if we did not watch . . ."

Roger smiled, "If we closed our eyes."

Nathan nodded. "Then we could do what we liked. Harry told his companion, Ben Farley, and Ben shut his eyes tight while Harry told him where to find his revolver. We watched in fascination but one by one we understood. It was only a minute, but all of us aged an hour or more, and we were armed, each man with a firearm his eyes shut. Next to him another man directing his aim. And the enemy captain stood caught in a trap of his own making. He could not attack, and he could not risk fleeing. He thought the cannons must be real as well. And as enemies will, he took the cowards way out. He took his own life and left his crew to fend for themselves. The Brigantine was ours."

It seemed funny to Harry that everyone applauded, but it also felt right. Nathan was a natural story teller. Even he was caught up in the telling, and he had been there. It was Nathan's father who spoke first.

"If I ever doubted your choice, son, you have proven me wrong. I know you will always make me proud." He turned to Harry. "Thank you, Lord Henry, for being there. You deserve to be called a hero."

"Heroes came cheaply that day," Harry said, uncomfortable at the comment. He looked at Nathan and added, "You could find them everywhere."

Harry paused after he said that. He did not even hear Lord Bontriomphe utter the remark of "Well said." He was thinking about Nathan. When he looked at him, he did not see a friend, although friendship was there. He saw the uniform. Something had happened. He was not the same Harry that stood stuttering on the dock that first day. There were many changes that had happened. The King in this world had signed the papers that acknowledged that Harry was a legitimate child. Lord Robert de Somerset was, by law, his older brother by some few minutes. Lord London was his younger brother. His parents where dead in this world but he did have a Grand Uncle as well as Uncles and Aunts and Cousins. Harry Potter had a family, and a family name. He had the one thing that he wanted more than anything else in the world. And he had something else.

He and Nathan Brennan were not friends. They were fellow officers. It was a deeper, more personal attachment. Nathan told a wonderful tale and it was true, but it was not real. The reality was being there. That was what changed Harry. It is one thing to say the man shot himself, but Harry was there. He saw the man lift the revolver. He saw him pull the trigger. He heard the shot and saw the spray of blood and watched the man slowly fall over between the ships. And he heard the sound as, in the silence, the body hit the water below. He had seen a man die, and knew that, because that man had died, he would not.

Lord Robert interrupted him when he heard Harry ask, "What will I tell Ron?"

"Are you . . . okay?" Lord Robert asked.

"Yes," Harry replied. "I was lost in my thoughts."

* * *

"It is time," Lord Bontriomphe said, after the Brennan family had left following a wonderful breakfast.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked.

"Back to school. You are already a week late."

"I had forgotten. It will be good to visit my friends again," Harry admitted. "Where is Lord London?"

"He is sleeping late. I think he is afraid to say goodbye." Lord Bontriomphe looked at Harry carefully. "You are wearing your uniform."

"I have become used to it. I should change."

"Perhaps not," Lord Bontriomphe said casually. "You will be going back to your school. You may want to show them."

"That would be fun," Harry admitted, as he thought of how everyone would react.

"It will help them understand."

Harry paused. Lord Bontriomphe had said that in such a way that it reminded him of what he had said. He would be visiting his friends. He was going back to finish the school year. Then he would be returning home.

Harry managed to sneak into Roger's bedroom to find Robert already there.

"You see," Robert told him, "Harry had to come, too." He turned to Harry. "He thinks we will not come back."

"We have to come back," Harry told Roger. "This is home."

Robert smirked. "There it is. We have both told you."

Roger smiled, and agreed to say goodbye.

* * *

The twin boys were led to the laboratory where Professor Quirrell was waiting for them. He ushered them to the side room where their bundles were and scolded them for being late.

"We had company," Harry insisted.

"Company? How could you have company when you are supposed to be traveling between physical planes? You were supposed to be here an hour ago. Cambridge is not that far from London."

"Actually," Lord Robert said, "We were supposed to be here last week but Lord Henry got lost."

"It was not only me," Harry said in his own defense.

"Grab your bundles, then," Quirrell said with exasperation. "We do not have that much time."

"They should be waiting, Professor," a journeyman said.

"Very well," Quirrell muttered as he was handed the stone. "Take hold of me, My Lords."

Each boy grabbed an arm and the Professor set his will upon the control stone. The laboratory faded out, and the waiting room of the headmaster's office faded in.

Professor McGonagall was there, reading the London Times, except it was from the London that Harry had left this morning. "You finally decided to come back," she said, but her voice was filled with obvious relief. She walked toward them and began her prepared speech.

"While the two of you are here, you are not to use your titles, is that clear?"

"Yes, Professor," Robert answered, "but I must ask, am I to be Robert or Charles."

"We have told the students that your memory returned and that you corrected us on the use of your name. You may be Robert."

"We have another problem," Harry said. "Are we Potters or Somersets?"

Professor McGonagall smiled as she understood what was behind the question. "Until I receive official word, Mr. Potter, I think it best that you remain Harry Potter. We can deal with changing your name over the summer. Robert?"

"If they still think I am a Potter, I will remain one. We can explain later."

"Very well. The two of you may go. If you hurry, you can still make lunch." She noted the way they were dressed. "Do you wish to change or show off?"

Robert and Harry looked at each other. "Show off," they said, and laughed. Robert had the chance to elaborate. "Professor Dumbledore did not keep our destination a secret. It might be a good idea to show our friends what some of the differences are."

"That is commendable, but I should warn you. Although I was informed about why you were late returning to the school, I didn't tell any of the students until you were about to miss your return time. They will be eager to see you" She paused, and added as an afterthought, "Now go. I know you don't want to spend the day with me. And leave your bundles. I'll have them sent to your dorms."

As both boys quickly left, Professor McGonagall turned to Professor Quirrell. "Harry looked like a little gentleman in his uniform. Is it real?"

"Oh, quite real, Professor. You did read in the newspaper. He is a Naval officer."

"Even though he's only twelve?"

Professor Quirrell raised an eyebrow in surprise. "In your world, Professor McGonagall, he became a student of magic when he was only eleven. I still find that to be unusual."


	15. The Chamber

A/N: I feel the need to make a comment here, but I really can't think of anything to say except the usual 'Thank you for reading and reviewing'. And while I do thank all of you (especially Nunyabidness who admitted to being familiar with the Lord Darcy stories by Richard Garrett), it does seem repetitious to repeat it Chapter after Chapter. So I will thank HLB for reviewing, being my oldest friend at , and I will leave it at that.

On the other hand, I have recently finished reading the book, "Eats, Shoots and Leaves" by Lynne Truss. It is an amusing book on punctuation, but that is not the point. The point is that when I explained that the title was based on the Panda joke, everyone gave me a blank stare. Therefore, I am going to tell you the Panda joke.

A Panda walks into a bar. He sits down and orders a salad. When he finishes eating, he pulls out a gun and fires it into the air. Then he walks out. The Bartender comes over, picks up the plate and starts cleaning the bar as though nothing had happened.

"Wait a minute," a customer shouts. "What was that all about? He fired a gun and then walked out without paying."

"That's a Panda," the bartender explained.

"What has that got to do with anything?"

"Wait a minute," the bartender says and fetches the encyclopedia. He shows the customer the listing for pandas.

The customer reads: Panda, native to China, eats shoots and leaves.

PART III: INTERACTION

Chapter Fifteen: The Chamber

Ron looked up at his brothers. "You two are good at figuring things out. Aren't you?"

"What's to figure out?" Fred asked curiously.

Ron looked at the spot where Harry last stood.

"The Chamber of Secrets. I think Hermione figured it out. That's why she was attacked."

"And you want us to be attacked?" George asked.

"NO, I want to make sure that Harry comes back," Ron told them. "They rushed him and his brother out of here because of what happened, and they're only going to bring them back if it's safe." Ron added in a soft voice, "They're my friends."

Fred and George smiled at each other. "We've found every other secret passage and room in this school. We'll do it."

"That's great," Ron said in relief.

"But we won't do it alone." Fred added.

"Safety in numbers," George pointed out.

"So tell us, Ron," Fred said, his grin getting bigger, "every dark and dirty secret that you have about Harry and Hermione."

"Then," George told him, "You're getting hold of that friend of yours from Hufflepuff, Wayne Hopkins. He can spill the dirt on Charlie."

"His name is really Robert," Ron told them.

"We know," George answered. "Lord Robert Lyon James de Somerset, Earl of Cahill. We do pay attention to what people tell us."

The three brothers sat around most of the day, as Ron told them everything from Dobby the elf to Harry hearing voices. They went over what happened at the one and only meeting of the dueling club, how much Ron knew about the spell Charlie/Robert cast on Malfoy, and every other odd bit they could think of. Ron even told them about the Polyjuice potion, and when asked had to tell them to ask Hermione how it was made.

"It takes a month, anyway," Fred pointed out. "We'll do it next year."

"But where?" George asked, and both twins looked at Ron, who began to get red in the face.

"The girls bathroom," he said as his brothers laughed. "On the first floor, near where Filch's cat was found."

"You've been sneaking into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom?" The twins laughed even harder.

"I wish I was an orphan," Ron muttered.

* * *

Ron walked around for two days trying to figure out what Fred and George were doing but to no avail. Finally they cornered him in the hallway as he was leaving the Great Hall after breakfast.

"We need to talk, little brother, in private."

"You found out something?" Ron asked.

"Learn to whisper, Ronnikins," came the admonishment.

Without waiting for the escort, they slipped away around the corner and down the corridor, into a familiar bathroom.

"Oy, Myrtle," Fred called out. "It's us again."

Myrtle floated out of her stall all smiles and giggles, then saw Ron. "You brought HIM."

Ron frowned. "It's nice to see you, too."

"It's not his fault, Myrtle," George said consolingly. "Our Mum wouldn't let him hang around with us. But we decided to change all that. We'll make him decent soon enough."

Myrtle smiled again. "That will be wonderful." Then she stuck her tongue out at Ron and disappeared into her stall.

"That is one great ghost," Fred remarked cheerfully, and Ron moaned.

"To business," George said. "We've found out who owns Dobby. You have one guess. He's Slytherin, He hates us, and he can't beat either Potter at Quidditch."

"MALFOY?" Ron yelled. "Malfoy sent his house elf to do all those things?"

"Volume, Ron, Please," Fred shook his head. "That's the funny part, assuming Harry was honest about what he told you. House elves are punished if they disobey their masters. And from what you told us, this Dobby fellow keeps hurting himself. Why is that?"

"He's mental," Ron offered.

"Possibly," George said, "But you're not thinking like a house elf."

Ron shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. The only thing I can think of is that he's punishing himself for disobeying . . ." Ron paused as his brothers began to grin. "That house elf is trying to help Harry? That's crazy."

"You said he was mental," Fred pointed out. "And it all fits. Malfoy's father is planning something so terrible that his own house elf can't go along with it. Dobby is trying to keep Harry from getting killed."

"Right," Ron agreed, "By only nearly killing him."

"And we know something else," Fred explained. "Lucius Malfoy hasn't told anyone, except his trusted but mental house elf, about what he's doing. Remember what you told us about Draco Malfoy when you mentioned the Heir of Slytherin. If he knew what his father was doing, he would have said something. His ego is too big for him to control."

"Where does that put us?" Ron asked.

"It's simple. We know that Malfoy is using someone in Hogwarts to open the Chamber of Secrets. We can't prove it, but it gives us a starting point."

"And now what?"

George smiled. "You are having lunch with the Hufflepuffs. You get along with Wayne well enough. We need to visit them, ask a few questions but keep it quiet. Find out who in their house would know anything Charlie might have said about his brother."

* * *

At lunch, Ron walked over to the Hufflepuff table and asked to sit down. Wayne immediately made room for him, and he said thanks.

"Anytime," Wayne told him. "I saw you by yourself at breakfast. I was tempted to say something then. It must be hard for you."

"Well, you have, um, someone missing as well."

" Call him Charlie until we get the official word." Megan Jones looked up from her food. "A dozen of us, less one, is not as bad as four of you, less three. But it has only been three days. I'm still getting used to it."

"I know what you mean," Wayne said. "Charlie turning out to be from another world, and a Lord to boot. I need two weeks to find out how to talk to him when he comes back."

"If he comes back," Ron said. "He won't come back unless it's safe."

"You're right," Megan said as she understood. "The Ministry arrested Hagrid, so they think it's safe, but if Charlie tells everything to those people he went home with, they'll refuse to let him come back."

"Especially with Dumbledore gone," Wayne added. "I'd wager he made a good impression on them."

"He did," Ron said, then noticed both Megan and Wayne staring at him. "I was there," he added. "Charlie and Harry were busy, and Dumbledore didn't want me to be alone."

"And you heard everything?" Megan pointed out Cedric Diggory. "Ron, Cedric is talking to everyone he can. He thinks if he gets enough pieces of the puzzle he can figure out what's going on. You may want to talk to him."

"Susan and Ernie are helping him out," Wayne told him. "Ernie is Charlie's best mate in our house, and Susan fancies him, but don't tell her you know."

* * *

Saturday was an excuse to get together out of doors. Fred Weasley had innocently challenged Cedric Diggory to a three on three game of Quidditch, to make up for not playing the real one. He accepted and showed up with Susan Bones and Ernie MacMillan. They played for an hour then settled down on the stands to talk.

Cedric Diggory stood holding his broom, gauging the Weasley Twins.

"You claim that you are doing the same thing that we are."

"And slightly better," Fred told him. "We know who's behind it."

"We know what we're up against, almost."

"Almost?" George asked.

Cedric smiled. "That's why we wanted to talk to Ron. We need his help to prove it."

"What do you want me to prove?" Ron asked.

"Let me explain, first," Cedric said. "Our first clue was when Harry claimed to hear that voice just before the match. Granger said she remembered something and ran off to the library. That was Susan's contribution. The next clue was Ernie's. He was talking with Charlie about the rumors. Charlie actually thought he might be the Heir of Slytherin."

"That's nonsense," Ron said.

"We know," Cedric agreed, "but that was when Ernie still thought that Harry was the Heir. Something else happened that day, just before Charlie first began to regain his memory. Ernie had reminded Charlie that his brother was a parselmouth, and Charlie said that he 'almost' remembered something. What Charlie almost remembered is what Hermione Granger did remember. Harry hears voices that others don't because . . .

". . . Harry is a parselmouth." George finished. "Fred, you were right.

"And how do I prove that?" Ron asked.

"Did you check the library?" Fred asked.

Cedric nodded. "Madam Pince doesn't remember what book she was looking at."

"But why do you need me?" Ron asked again.

Cedric grinned. "Granger always takes notes. I doubt anyone bothered checking, but I would bet Charlie's remarks about her are worth their weight in gold. She would have written down what she found out."

"That's easy enough to check out," George admitted. "Ron, you can make up an excuse and ask to see Hermione."

Almost everyone looked at Ron, but Ron shook his head furiously. "I can't do that. It wouldn't be proper."

"You can make up a story and get in to see her. I know you can," George pointed out.

"That's not the point," Ron insisted. "She's a girl. I can't go searching through her pockets."

"I can," Susan Bones offered.

"How do I explain you coming along with me?"

Susan smiled, knowing what Ron's reaction would be. "Tell the teachers I'm your girlfriend."

Ron blushed beat red. "I ca - can't do that. No one would believe me."

Susan reached over and grabbed Ron's hand, enjoying his embarrassment. "They will. Everyone has seen you sitting with me at the Hufflepuff table. I've even been asked if we're together."

"So have I," Ron said. "I told them no."

"So did I," Susan said, "but this isn't about you or me."

"Susan is right," Cedric said. "It isn't even about the Potters. We have a chance to save the school. You do know that they're talking about sending everyone home?"

"That's Cedric for you," Ernie MacMillan said. "Loyalty and Duty are his two middle names."

Cedric grinned as though he had won the Quidditch Cup. "You're right Ernie, and you'd better be careful. You're following in my footsteps."

Susan held out her hand. "We have enough time before dinner. Do you want to give it a try?"

Ron took her hand. "I might as well. But don't tell my mum."

* * *

Professor Flitwick eyed the two students carefully. "What are a Gryffindor and a Hufflepuff doing together inside the school on such a nice day?" He had a good guess. They had been sitting together at meals, and now they were holding hands

"We were thinking about Hermione, Sir," Ron said. "We were hoping we could, you know, talk to her."

Ron was worried, then Susan squeezed his hand to reassure him. Still holding his hand she said to the Professor, "Hermione was the one who introduced us. It's been difficult for us, and now Charlie and Harry are gone . . ."

Professor Flitwick nodded. "I understand. I was young once, myself. But I must warn you to go directly to the infirmary. Let Madam Pomfrey know that you have my permission."

As they walked away, Ron pulled his hand free. "I don't believe you said that. What will people think about us?"

"I wasn't thinking about that. I was thinking about Charlie."

"I should have guessed," Ron said. "I know you don't really like me. I mean . . ."

Susan laughed. "I know what you mean. I really do like you but . . . Now I'm doing it."

Ron laughed with her, and they relaxed. When they reached the infirmary, she slipped her hand into his, and they smiled in understanding. They were doing this for someone else.

Madam Pomfrey grudgingly let them in, assuring them that Hermione wouldn't hear anything. She let them have two chairs to sit in and warned that she would keep an eye on them. As soon as it was safe, Susan carefully and quietly checked Hermione's clothes but could find nothing. She looked at Ron and shrugged. Ron nodded and, more as a gesture, gave Hermione's stone hand a squeeze.

"I touched something soft."

"What do you mean by soft?"

Ron smiled, "As in a piece of paper."

Clutched tightly in her clenched fist was a folded up parchment. This time Susan watched while Ron carefully wiggled the parchment out of Hermione's hand and thrust it in his pocket. He and Susan left shortly afterward, thanking Madam Pomfrey, and began walking back to the main doors.

"I was thinking about Charlie," Susan said. "I was upset with him when I found out he was leaving."

"I know what you mean," Ron told her. "I felt the same way, but I put on a happy face. I couldn't let him and Harry worry about me."

"I embarrassed him," Susan admitted. "He was always fun to be around. He was different and familiar at the same time."

Ron was curious. "How did you embarrass him?"

"Oh, I, uh, kissed him. In front of everybody."

"That would embarrass me," Ron admitted.

"Remember, I just found out he was going to another world."

Ron smiled. "I think I understand. You wanted to let him know you cared about him. Sometimes words don't help."

Susan smiled. "That was insightful."

Ron smiled in return. "That was the excuse Mum gave me when I was five. She kissed me in front of everyone the first time I did magic."

She reached over and grabbed his hand. "You poor thing. That must have been horrible."

They were still holding hands as they reached Professor Flitwick, and walked outside. As they walked, Ron couldn't help but comment, "You don't need to hold my hand any longer."

Susan looked at him. "You didn't have to say anything. You just had to let go."

Ron smiled, then started to blush, then suddenly became tongue-tied. Just as suddenly he could talk again. "I just wanted to let you know you have a friend if you need one."

Susan nodded. "And right now, I do."

* * *

Less than an hour from when they had left, the two were back at the stands. The first question they were asked was "And?"

Ron showed them the parchment he had found. It was the page torn out of a book. "The monster is a Basilisk. The sheet explains everything. The crow of a cock can kill it. That's why all the roosters were killed. Spiders flee from it. And Harry and I watched as the spiders marched out of the school."

"And that's not all," Susan added. "Hermione even noted how it's traveling through the school. It's using the pipes."

"The pieces are falling together," Fred told George.

"And I think I have the next piece," George replied. "Remember what we were told about the last time? Someone was killed."

Cedric Diggory was paying close attention. "Do you know who it was?"

Fred and George nodded. "We have another visit to make."

* * *

"Professor McGonagall?"

Minerva looked up from her desk at the visiting Professor Quirrell. "Gabriel? I thought you were staying in Cambridge for the weekend? And why are you being so formal?"

"I apologize, Minerva, but I did promise to bring you the newspaper every day."

McGonagall smiled at the thought. Gabriel Quirrell would come to Hogwarts each day to coordinate the research the Institute was conducting. He would return to (his) Cambridge at the end of the day and purchase a copy of the London Times. He would bring the paper with him and let her read yesterday's news from another world, one where magic was part of everyday life.

"But why do you have such a long face. Is there something in the paper?"

"Not yet," Gabriel told her. "I receive a call from London via the teleson. They were relaying a message from Dover. Minerva, I told you what we, our government, was planning to do with Harry. We arranged for him to attend a Naval training course that would keep him at sea for three days. The idea was that he would leave as Harry Potter and return recognized as Lord Henry de Somerset, the second son of the late Marquis of London."

"I thought everything was going smoothly." Minerva began to worry.

"It was, but . . ." Professor Quirrell took a deep breath and wiped at his eye. "The ship he was on did not return to port yesterday as scheduled. A sighting alert will be issued automatically according to standards as soon as they are twenty four hours late. That should have happened already."

Minerva looked at Gabriel and her hand began to shake. "What do you mean when you say that his ship did not return?"

"I mean exactly that. It is still too early to be sure . . ." Gabriel frowned. "It is too early to say anything. I was ordered to tell you. I know he will be fine."

Minerva nodded. "Thank you for being honest with me." She added with a sureness that she did not feel, "I know that you'll be proven correct."

* * *

"The girls bathroom?" Cedric asked as he followed the twins, with Susan and Ron behind him and Ernie at the end.

"It's haunted," Fred told him with a grin and the slipped inside. Once everyone was in, he closed the door, then called out Myrtle's name.

"You're back." She smiled, then frowned. "And you have more people with you?"

"I'm sorry, Myrtle, but we need to ask you a very important question." Fred paused, then said slowly, "How did you die?"

Myrtle seemed surprised, then delighted as she hovered in the middle of the bathroom.

"It was terrible. Olive Hornsby had been teasing me all day about my glasses, and I was crying in one of the stalls. Then I heard a boy come in and I became angry. I was going to tell him he was wrong to be here. I opened the door to the stall to tell him to go away and," she said the last part with pride, "I died."

Fred walked over to the stall, and stood facing the direction that Myrtle would have looked. George followed his gaze to a row of sinks and began examining the wall. Cedric, Susan, Ron and Ernie came over to help. In an act of disgust at not finding anything, Cedric rested his arms on one of the sinks and sighed. Then he cocked an eyebrow. "That's odd. This tap has a serpent engraved on it. The ones in the boys bathroom are always plain."

Susan nodded, "So are the taps in the girls bathrooms. So is this one," she noted of the sink she was standing close to.

"So are the rest of these," Ron pointed out.

All six students looked at each other. They had found the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.

"How do we open it?" Ron asked.

"I think that's obvious," Cedric said. "You tell it to open up. Do you know Parseltongue?"

"We should tell the teachers," Susan suggested. "They can take care of it, and then Charlie can come back."

"Not yet," George said, and Fred nodded. "We don't know who the Heir of Slytherin is."

"That doesn't matter," Cedric pointed out. "Once we get rid of the basilisk, the Heir won't matter."

"But Hagrid does," Fred told him. "If we end this now, Hagrid stays in Azkaban because we can't prove it wasn't him."

"Fred and George are right," Ron said. "If we tell the teachers, and they get rid of the basilisk, we're safe. But if we don't find the Heir of Slytherin those people will make Harry and Charlie stay where they are, because they'll know it isn't safe here."

Cedric rubbed his chin. "I had a thought. If Hagrid were to admit he was the Heir of Slytherin, that he was spurred to action by the revelation that the Boy-Who-Lived had a twin brother of equal power, that might convince everyone that it was safe to let Harry and Charlie come back. Once Harry is back, we have the means of opening the chamber."

"How do we get Hagrid to admit anything?" Ron asked. "He's in Azkaban. We can't just write him a letter and say, 'please tell all these lies about yourself'."

Fred grinned. "We forge a diary, and have the acting Groundskeeper find it when he cleans out Hagrid's hut."

"It won't work," Cedric pointed out. "We all know Dumbledore said to leave his hut alone because Hagrid would be coming back. The Groundskeeper has no reason to go to his hut."

"We'll ask Lupin." George's manner said there was no more need for discussion. He looked at the stall with the closed door and said, "Thank you, Myrtle. We mean that."

* * *

On Monday, two distinguished guests from a parallel world were in the Headmistress's office examining the book found by Remus Lupin.

Professor Quirrell and Father Maurice Pannier sat looking at the diary of Rubeus Hagrid. "This man is barely literate," Professor Quirrell remarked, "but it can be deciphered."

Father Maurice nodded. "It appears, Professor McGonagall, that your Minister was accurate in his assessment."

Professor McGonagall nodded. "I still find it hard to believe. I thought I knew Hagrid well enough."

"The damaged mind often acts in this way," Professor Quirrell explained to show the acting Headmistress that she should not blame herself. "It always strikes out at the ones it seems to love the most."

Father Maurice nodded in agreement. "We were worried about the situation. I admit my superiors were debating about honouring our agreement that the boys should return."

"Nonsense," McGonagall told him. "The agreement always was that they should return if conditions permitted. Albus was more than willing to let Harry and," she paused to smiled, "to let My Lords Henry and Robert remain in your world if this matter was not resolved. I should remind you that he was the first one to suggest that they should leave immediately. If he had cause, I think he would have asked you to move the entire school to Cambridge in your world."

Professor Quirrell smiled. "We have done that once before. There is a precedent."

Minerva smiled, then frowned. "Gabriel?"

"I am sorry, Minerva, there is still no news."

* * *

Headmistress McGonagall had called a staff meeting at noontime to discuss an important matter. When everyone was assembled, she came directly to the point.

"As all of you know, on Saturday, May 8, our world was turned upside down when visitors from parallel world appeared at the Quidditch pitch. Charles Potter was originally from that world and, because of his close attachment to his brother, Harry, both of them went back to that world with the intention of returning two weeks later. That would have been tomorrow. As of now, they will not be coming back."

"But the diary?" Professor Sprout said. "The danger is over."

"That is not the problem," McGonagall said, as her voice took on a sad tone. "This is the official report from that world. It comes from the Royal Naval Yards at Dover. 'The HRMS Hermes, a naval training vessel has been reported missing at sea. As of this date it is presumed lost.' Harry Potter was on that ship."

No one said a word. The death of a student was always hard to deal with. But Potter had a reputation about him, enhanced by his connection to the other world. He would be missed for many reasons.

* * *

The entire student body was waiting that night. Rumors had been circulating all week about the return of the Potter twins, and word had gone out that there was to be a special announcement at dinner.

Ron and Susan were still sitting together at meals. They were still only friends, but they were good friends. And they seemed to have a lot in common. Both were eager to find out about Harry and Charlie, but then they heard the announcement. Ron was dazed, shaking his head. The words, "lost at sea," repeating in his head. Susan was hugging him, both for support and to give support. He looked up and Fred and George were standing there, to help if need be. He looked at them through his tears. "How do I tell Hermione?"

* * *

Monday morning. Ron crawled out of bed. He dressed and walked down to the Great Hall. He and Susan ate breakfast as usual. She knew how alone he felt, and tried to tell him.

"You don't have to tell me," Ron said. "You're still putting up with me. That means a lot."

"Life will get better, Ron. Give it time."

"I know it will. And I have plenty of time."

* * *

"What do we do?" Cedric asked as they stood in the empty classroom.

Fred shrugged his shoulders and looked to George.

George shrugged his shoulders as well. "They'll be reviving everyone on Saturday. The Heir has to do something before then. We have to figure out how to lay a trap."

Fred smiled. "That's a great idea, George. I knew I could count on you." He turned to Cedric, "I know I can talk Myrtle into acting as a lookout. All we have to do is figure out how to let each other know what's going on."

Cedric laughed. "Can you have her tell me as well?"

"I think I can talk her into it." He turned to Myrtle. "Can I ask another favor?"

Myrtle grinned maliciously. "First, tell me what you're going to do?"

"My friend, Lee Jordan, has a pet Tarantula and, by coincidence, I was thinking of sending Olive Hornsby a belated birthday present."

Myrtle laughed. "Fred, you are the most wonderful boy in the world. Sometimes I wish you were dead."

Fred managed to blush. "Thank you, Myrtle. I mean that."

"Liar," Myrtle said with another laugh. "I will do it. If anyone comes in, I'll tell you at once." She looked at Cedric. "And him."

"Thanks, Myrtle. You are the greatest."

"That's taken care of," Fred commented happily. "Do either of you know how to catch a basilisk?"

* * *

"Do you want me to stay with you?" Susan offered.

"I think I can handle it by myself," Ron said, smiling at the thought of having Susan walk him to class.

"At least you remembered how to smile." Susan squeezed his hand one last time and left for her own class.

Ron walked into Transfiguration and took his seat. Suddenly he noticed Neville Longbottom sitting next to him. Neville smiled and said, "With your wand and my talent, we'll make a good team."

Ron snorted. Life would go on.

"Thanks, Neville."

"We're friends."

The class ended finally, with both Ron and Neville failing to turn a stool into a hedgehog, or whatever it was they were supposed to do. But Ron did feel better for it.

Neville walked with him to the next class when they noticed Malfoy, who hadn't said anything specific the entire weekend, but kept telling everyone it was a wonderful day. Their surprise was that Malfoy was cursing under his breath at someone who was not there, pausing only long enough to sneer at Ron before he walked in the opposite direction.

"What was that about?"

Neville shrugged his shoulders. "If Malfoy's that mad it must be something good."

"Ron," Susan was running down the hall, "I just heard. It's wonderful."

"What is?"

"You don't know?"

Ron looked at her wide smile, then nodded to the crowd around them. "They're all Slytherins. They wouldn't tell me anything."

"Then I get to," she said, as Neville and a couple of other Gryffindors listened in. "Harry's ship. It was spotted off the southwest tip of Ireland. It should arrive at port tomorrow." She leaned into Ron and whispered, "Life just got better."


	16. Basilisk

Chapter Sixteen: Basilisk

Harry and Robert raced through the corridors and down the staircases. Then they paused, not to catch their breath, but because the doors to the Great Hall were closed.

"Something happened," Harry told his brother.

"Then we shall find out what," Robert said, and they opened the doors and stepped inside. Everyone was sitting at their tables and looking at them. As Harry expected, Malfoy started to make a comment, but someone at another table began applauding. It was taken up quickly, and soon the students at three of the four tables were applauding.

Harry stared in amazement, but Robert only smirked. They weren't applauding him. They weren't applauding Harry either. Not really. They were applauding the Boy-Who-Lived for surviving another close call. It was obvious that his latest adventures had preceded him. On the other hand, Harry was the Boy-Who-Lived.

"I know what to do, Harry," Robert whispered and grabbed his arm as they went to the Gryffindor table. He didn't stop until he and Harry were standing on the top of the table.

"Oy, Quiet," he shouted in a perfect imitation of Fred Weasley. As everyone quieted, he shouted out, "I would like to introduce to you, in the most embarrassing manner, someone you already know. May I present to you My Lord Lieutenant Henry James Somerset, of His Royal Majesty's Navy."

Robert then jumped down and left Harry standing there by himself. Ginny Weasley gave him a smile, then excused herself, telling him he could have her seat. Robert thanked her and sat down to watch Harry.

The applause was renewed, only to die again, when Professor McGonagall's voice was heard. "Mister Potter, you were told at the beginning of the school year not to stand on the tables. Get down at once, or you may see me in my office after this meal."

Robert grinned broadly as Harry sat down next to him. "Now I know how Fred felt."

Harry tried to reply but too many people began to welcome them back.

* * *

Harry sat on the couch in the Gryffindor Common room and relished the brief moment of quiet. It was good to be back. Ron was trying to answer his latest question. Harry wanted to know why Susan Bones was with him in the Gryffindor common room while Robert had gone back to Hufflepuff.

"Well, Um, Harry, we, well, we're friends."

"That's right," Susan said quickly. "Ron and I have been doing a lot of things together."

Harry paused. "Should I ask what kind of things?"

"We should go find Fred and George," Ron said quietly.

"Ron, I am officially confused."

"Harry." Ron looked around carefully then lowered his voice. "We found the Chamber of Secrets."

Harry's eyes bulged. He looked at Susan and she nodded.

"We've arranged a place to meet," Susan whispered. "We need to tell you and Robert everything, especially you" She paused. "We can call you Harry, right. Or do we have to call you Lord Something?"

"Oh. Yeah. Harry is fine. What about the Chamber of Secrets?"

"Do you want to change first?"

"NO," Harry said firmly. "You have told me the most interesting piece of news in weeks. I don't want to wait."

* * *

As they waited in the classroom for the others to show up, Susan and Ron told Harry what they knew. It did not take long except Harry kept asking how they found out this or that.

Harry was incredulous. "You framed Hagrid just to get me back here? Ron, how could you?"

"He was already in Azkaban, Harry. And we needed you if we're going to prove he's innocent."

Harry paused. "Why do you need me?"

"You're a parselmouth. If we're right, you can open the Chamber of Secrets."

Ernie suddenly rushed into the classroom. "Change of plans," he said breathlessly. "The scout reported. The Heir of Slytherin went into the Chamber. It was a girl."

"Where's Cedric?" Susan asked.

"I don't know what happened but he went to talk to Gilderoy Lockhart."

Harry followed the others as they went to Lockhart's office to be met by a grinning pair of redheads. They pointed to the open door. "First, you have to see this."

* * *

Cedric and Ernie had finally had a chance to corner Robert. The first thing they did was ask about his name.

"My brother and I have foresworn all titles while we are in this world. You can even call me Charlie if you prefer."

Cedric began explaining what had happened, and what they were trying to do. Robert was on the verge of agreeing to go with them when a ghost suddenly appeared. Moaning Myrtle.

"I saw her, Cedric. I saw the Heir of Slytherin. She went into the Chamber." Myrtle was excited by what had happened.

"You have told Fred, Haven't you?"

"Of course I did. He's the one that sent that wonderful package. He wants to meet you at the teachers lounges." Her face dropped. "It's plan B." Then she faded away.

"What's plan B?" Robert asked.

"Plan B is we tell the teachers everything because we ran out of time," Cedric explained. "Plan A was that we talk to Harry first." Cedric turned to Ernie. "Are you coming?"

"Definitely. But, what about Charlie?"

"I am coming as well," Robert answered.

The three boys quickly left Hufflepuff to the surprise and consternation of everyone else in the common room who had seen the ghost.

A few minutes later, they were walking toward the teachers lounge, ignoring the call for all the students to go back to their houses. They were stopped when a voice called out to wait.

Fred and George appeared from behind an invisibility cloak.

"That belongs to Harry," Robert admonished.

"Not now. This is serious," Fred told him. "It seems the Heir of Slytherin didn't go into the Chamber alone. He took a student with him. The girl that Myrtle saw."

"It gets better," George added. "Lockhart knows where the Chamber is. He's getting ready to go there himself."

"We had better tell what we know," Cedric acknowledged. "Just in case. Ernie, will you get Susan and Ron. Hopefully they're waiting with Harry in the classroom. Tell them to meet us at Lockhart's Office."

Ernie grinned. "If they can run as fast as I can, I bet we'll beat you there."

Cedric grinned. "We're on the Quidditch team, remember. We can fly?"

Ernie laughed, and was gone.

"Will you talk to him?" Fred asked Cedric as they rushed along.

"We have a bit of a reputation," George explained.

Cedric shook his head. "I'm not surprised."

Robert smirked. "How did the three of you manage to become friends?"

"It's a working relationship," Cedric answered. "And it's your fault."

"Right," Robert said, and smirked again.

They arrived at Lockhart's office and Fred and George hid behind the cloak. Cedric and Robert walked in and . . . Cedric asked, "Are you leaving, Professor?"

"You know how the life of a celebrity is. You can never stay in one place too long."

"But the Chamber of Secrets?" Robert asked.

"A terrible thing, I assure you," Lockhart said as he continued to throw things into his trunk. "I will send my condolences to the Weasley family as far as their daughter goes but that is all I can do."

Cedric and Robert both looked at the door, and thought about the twins waiting beyond it when they discovered who was taken. "But Professor," Cedric said earnestly, "What about all those things you did?"

"You can't believe everything you read, dear boy," Lockhart said with callousness. "What do you expect me to do, anyway? I don't even know where that stupid Chamber is."

Cedric smiled. "We do, Professor. It's in the girls bathroom, the one on the first floor near the Gryffindor tower. It's right where Filch's cat was attacked."

Lockhart looked up as his attitude changed. "That is useful information. It does change the situation. Is there anything else I need to know?"

Cedric paused. "We don't know how to get in, but we think you have to be a parselmouth. That's also how the Heir of Slytherin is controlling the monster. It's a basilisk."

Lockhart nodded as his thoughts wavered. "Why didn't you tell anyone about this?"

"We didn't know who to talk to, Sir, until now. We were waiting until Harry Potter came back."

Gilderoy Lockhart broke out in a smile. "I'll need to talk to Potter. He will have to open the Chamber for me, and I will have to tell him what to say. As for the two of you, I think I'm good enough to make you believe I knew all of this already."

Robert watched in curiosity as Cedric asked, "What do you mean, Sir?"

"It's simple, really," Lockhart said as he drew his wand. "It isn't as though I actually did any of those things, but people like to think I did. So I would get the story and all the details, and then I would make the person forget what they did. It's my specialty, you see. Memory Charms." He pointed his wand at the two boys and said, "Obliva . . ." Then he pointed his wand at the two boys and said, "Obliva . . ." Then he pointed his wand . . .

Cedric looked at Robert who had just finished a quick but complicated hand gesture. "That is very useful."

"I have Master Sean to thank," Robert admitted. "Before he left for Normandy, he helped me set the spell again."

"Again?"

"It is a prepared spell. And it is only useful if someone attacks you. It reflects the power of the spell back at them."

Cedric nodded. "That's good to know but now we'll have to tell Fred and George about their sister."

"No, you don't," Fred and George said as they removed the invisibility cloak. They looked at each other and grinned. "First, When he gets here, we'll show Harry what Robert can do. Then Harry can show us what he can do."

* * *

"Again?" Harry asked when he looked in the room at Professor Lockhart.

Robert smiled. "The old fraud actually was an old fraud. He admitted that he never did any of those things. He found the people who did and made them forget."

Cedric nodded. "That's the one spell he admitted to being good at."

Fred smiled then looked at Susan Bones. "How close are you and Ron, really?"

"We're friends, but we both like the fact that everyone thinks it's more than that. Why?"

"We're about to tell him some bad news."

"If it's bad why are you smiling."

"Because he has no idea what else to do," George replied. "We know who was taken to the Chamber."

Ron cringed and then let out a gasp when he was told. "Harry, we have to do something."

Harry nodded. "Let's open the Chamber and see what we're facing."

"We should tell the teachers," Susan said.

"They'll just stop us," Fred insisted. "They'll tell us it's too dangerous."

Harry tried to think. "Uncle Remus. Someone has to tell him. He'll know how to handle this."

Ernie groaned. "It's going to be me again. I always get to be the one to run around."

Cedric grinned. "Thanks for volunteering."

Harry turned to Ernie. "Tell Remus Lupin what we're doing. If we get the Chamber open, we'll wait in case he has a better plan, otherwise I'll try to get Ginny."

"We'll try to get Ginny," Fred told him, with George and Ron strongly agreeing.

"You can't," Harry told them. "There's a basilisk in there. What if I can't control it."

George looked at him, "What if you can, except the Heir of Slytherin is there trying to stop you?"

"Fine," Harry said, "Just don't hold me responsible."

"Ernie," George said as the Hufflepuff was about to leave. "Take this. Just in case."

"That's my invisibility cloak," Harry yelled indignantly.

"He might need it," Fred replied, "and we only borrowed it."

Ernie ogled the cloak. "Those are extremely rare. How did you . . ." Harry's look brought him back. "I'll trust to my speed," he said. "The cloak will only slow me down." On that note he took off.

Cedric grinned at his speed. "If Quidditch were played on the ground, he'd have my position in a heartbeat." Then he paused. "Someone needs to stay here." He pointed into the room.

"Why," Fred asked. "Lockhart's not going anywhere."

It was Robert who answered. "He might. If someone finds him and cancels the spell. He will run to ground and we may never find him until he has an alibi prepared."

Susan looked at Cedric. "Who gets to stay? And miss out on the chance to be a hero?"

"Or heroine?" Cedric asked, then sighed. "Send somebody around when you get a chance. I'll wait, unless you think I can do more by going with you."

"It is up to Harry, anyway," Robert told him. "All of us are extra. I will wait, if you want to go."

Cedric shook his head. "I thought of it. I'm stuck with it. Unless you really want to stay?" He laughed at the look on Robert's face. "Get going, all of you. You're wasting time. What if Lupin shows up and you're not even there." His smile faded as he watched the others run around the corner. He wished he had not thought of Lockhart escaping, but tried to console himself with the fact that this rescue was happening because of the groundwork he had laid, that what he was doing now was the right thing when you looked at the big picture. It did not help. Justice demanded that they avoid any chance that Lockhart would get away, and he was stuck watching him. Cedric looked at DADA Professor who was still shouting "Obliva . . ." and shouted back.

"YOU REALLY ARE A STINKING GIT."

* * *

Six people walked into the girl's bathroom, and slid out from underneath the invisibility cloak. Harry was grinning to himself. The twins had been worried about Ernie MacMillan getting caught, but no one had thought about themselves. It was a lucky break they had the cloak with them.

Fred looked around as soon as he entered. Myrtle was nowhere to be seen but it was assumed she was hiding in her toilet. He looked over to her stall when he heard one of the pipes gurgle.

"I know one person who will be happy if this doesn't work out."

"That's nice to know," Harry responded. Then Ron pointed out the sink to him. "What do I have to do?"

"Try telling it to open up," Ron suggested.

Harry nodded and said, "OPEN UP."

"Um, Harry," George suggested, "Try saying it in Parseltongue."

"I thought I was," Harry answered, then tried again. "Open up."

"That was still Anglo-French," Robert said, then grinned as he understood what he said. "You know what I mean."

Harry nodded, and concentrated. His voice felt different as he said it the third time. "_Open up._"

* * *

Remus Lupin looked at the waning daylight and let out a deep breath. The moon would rise early this night but he was ready. Then the claxon sound of the alarm went off. He quickly went to the teachers lounge where the staff was gathering. He listened with dismay as he heard about the latest attack. Then assignments were handed out. They had to make sure that the remaining students were all accounted for. Remus was given the assignment of waiting to see if he was needed.

"Minerva," he explained, "let me know if you really do need me. I will be in control of myself, and my senses will be heightened. That could be useful."

"I will keep it in mind, Remus, but only as a last resort."

Remus nodded and slowly walked back to his rooms, silently cursing himself for having this curse. He opened the door to his rooms, and suddenly realized he had lost track of the time. He quickly grabbed the potion that was waiting for him and drank it in one swallow. Then he looked out the window to see the first sliver of the rising moon.

"Mister Lupin," he heard someone call as his door suddenly opened. He cursed himself again, this time for not having locked it as soon as he came in.

"It's Harry Potter, Mister Lupin, we found the Chamber of Secrets." Ernie blurted this out before Remus had finished turning around. Remus opened his mouth to tell the boy to leave, but the pain hit him at that moment and he let out a strangled cry as he fell to the floor.

As soon as he was able, he raised his head and looked around him. Remus recognized Robert's friend, Ernie, and sighed. Ernie was sitting down backed up against the door, and the sound Remus made scared the boy even more. His first thought was to calm the boy, then try to find out what was going on. It was not an easy task, but thanks to Doctor Pantely he had the means to do it.

Remus the wolf jumped up, resting his paws on the writing table and grabbed his most recent letter with his jaws. Jumping down, he slowly walked over to the cringing boy and dropped the parchment into his lap. It had the effect that Remus had hoped.

Ernie flinched as he saw the wolf coming toward him, but his fear lessened slightly as he noticed the parchment, then confusion and curiosity took hold when the werewolf (Ernie knew what he was facing) dropped it into his lap. He read the letter as the wolf calmly lay on the floor in front of him.

"Remus, the potion is a success. By the time you read this I will be making a demonstration at Saint Mungo's. I have already spent all night with two other patients without cause for worry. As with you, both remained cognizant the entire time."

Ernie looked up in wonder. "You're safe? You're not going to kill me or anything?"

Remus nodded his head.

Ernie was never the bravest person in the world. He knew he wouldn't have lasted five minutes in Gryffindor. But he was no coward, either. He had been caught by surprise by the unexpected, and his fear quickly abated as he understood he was not in danger, but he had a problem.

"Um, Mister Lupin, Do you understand me?"

The look Remus gave him showed that he had asked a stupid question.

"Um, Right." Nothing makes your fear disappear faster than making a fool of yourself. "I was supposed to give you a message, and ask your advice." The wolf nodded. "We found the Chamber of Secrets. Harry's going to try to open it, but he'll wait before he goes in, in case you have a better plan."

Remus stared at the boy. Ernie told him the entire story as clearly as he could, then sat back, still on the floor, waiting an answer. Remus let out a sarcastic whimper to remind him that waiting for a response was not practical, and the boy nodded. Remus admired the fact that Ernie was relatively bright. As soon as he remembered that Remus could not speak he began asking yes or no questions. The boy quickly learned that Remus thought Harry's idea was reckless, but a wolf was not the person to stop him. Telling the other teachers would not help either, if Harry and the other had already entered the Chamber. Then the boy made a brilliant suggestion without knowing it.

"I wish Dumbledore was here," he said with exasperation. "He would know what to do."

Remus stood up on all fours. Ernie MacMillan started, then asked, "Do you know where Dumbledore is?"

Remus nodded, then walked to the side of the door as though he was a dog wanting to be let out. Ernie stood up with more courage than he had when he set down, and opened the door. Remus ran into the hallway and stopped. In an almost human motion, he nodded his head in a way that said "follow me."

Remus ran though the halls. As he saw that Ernie could keep up, he quickened their pace. They raced past the first floor bathroom but Remus could smell that Harry was no longer there, and kept going. In a short time, Remus had led the panting boy to where Professor McGonagall was conferring with Professor Quirrell about the kidnaping of Ginny Weasley. They had confirmed several students missing from their rooms, four each from Hufflepuff and Gryffindor.

"Professor," Ernie said quickly as he ran up, but Remus pushed him from McGonagall to Quirrell. Ernie nodded and repeated his greeting, "Professor, we need to contact Professor Dumbledore immediately. Harry and Robert are in the Chamber of Secrets."

Professor Quirrell began to ask questions but Remus growled. He looked at Minerva who understood.

"Gabriel, if they are in the Chamber itself we will need Albus as quickly as possible."

"I will take him with me," Quirrell said without hesitation. As he reached for the pouch, he added, "Albus can ask him directly what he need to know."

McGonagall asked where the Chamber was, then told Ernie to give her his wand. He could not take it with him. There was not enough time to say anything else because Professor Quirrell put his arm on the boy's shoulder just as Remus leaned into his leg on the other side. The world faded out, then faded back in, and Ernie found himself in another world.

"We need to find out exactly where Professor Dumbledore is," Quirrell called out to his staff, but Remus immediately let out a howl and padded toward the laboratory door.

"He has the Professor's scent," Ernie explained, hoping he was right. Professor Quirrell nodded and the boy opened the door, following Remus as the wolf ran out. Quirrell called out to two of the younger journeymen who ran to follow them.

Remus wasn't waiting for Ernie once they were outside. He streaked across the grounds, as Ernie made every effort to follow. Ernie rounded the corner of the far building, and almost laughed as he saw the Great Wolf jump up and put his front paws on the shoulders of a familiar figure. He ran the last few yards as Professor Dumbledore asked 'Moony' to get down. Ernie rushed out his message between gasps and Dumbledore's smile became a serious frown. He began racing toward the Institute that Ernie had so recently left.

One of the journeymen ran back with Dumbledore and Moony, while the other, after a quick word, walked over to Ernie. "Can you run?"

"If I have to," Ernie gasped, but the journeyman put out his hand to stop him.

"You do not, but you will have to wait before you can return. Would you like something to eat while you wait?"

Ernie nodded.

The Journeyman smiled. "I am David. I heard Master Albus call you Ernie?" Ernie nodded and David led him to the nearby kitchens.

* * *

"Well, we can't wait forever," Harry said, "Who goes first?"

Fred and George looked at each other. "Even," Fred called and the both held out their hands. Fred held out two fingers but George held out only one. George grinned politely and slid himself feet first into the pipe. Fred gave no one a chance to say anything, but quickly followed him. Harry followed suit, then Robert. Ron turned to Susan.

"You should stay here. It could be dangerous."

"Oh, I know it's dangerous, Ron, but I promised to help, and I will." She slid into the pipe before Ron could say anything else. Ron shook his head at her stubbornness and followed her. After a long and slimy slide, he came out of the tube and landed in the spot that Susan had moved from only seconds before.

"It stinks," Ron said out loud.

"It gets worse," Fred called from a distance away, a light at the end of his wand. "Check this out."

In the wandlight, Ron could barely make out a long shriveled form. "What is it?"

"The Basilisk," Harry said with authority. "It shed its skin."

"This thing must be at least sixty feet long," George muttered, as he led everyone past the huge snake skin.

Ron swallowed hard as he looked at the skin as it sat on the damp, mildewed floor. He suddenly realized that what he was walking on were the decades perhaps centuries old bones of myriad rats and other vermin and wished briefly he had never come. Then he remembered Ginny and steeled his heart. The worst was yet to come.

They walked down the tunnel, which seemed to twist and turn to no purpose. Then Fred and George stopped and called to Harry. "We need your help again."

Ron looked and saw two stone snakes with bright emerald eyes that seemed to stare directly at him and follow him as he moved. He heard Harry hiss in Parseltongue and the serpents separated. The wall seemed to crack open, and both halves slid out of sight. He realized there was someone holding his hand, and saw Susan looking at him for encouragement. He squeezed her hand and she smiled briefly. Harry told everyone to be prepared to close their eyes, and took the lead as they entered the Chamber itself.

Robert was the first to speak as they walked into the low-ceilinged corridor. "This looks like the temple of the damned."

They reached the last of the snake like pillars that lined the dark hallway, and the chamber seemed to open up, revealing a huge statue of a demented looking man with a long beard. Ron guessed that it was the image of Salazar Slytherin. He heard George call out Ginny's name and saw him and Fred rushing to the feet of the statue. He brushed past Harry and Robert to join them. It was Ginny, but she looked pale with a blueish hue. When he touched her arm she felt cold, but George said he could feel her breath. It was faint but she was still alive. Ron couldn't help notice Tom Riddle's diary was by her feet.

He looked back at Harry, but Harry was looking elsewhere. Harry said, "Tom Riddle?" and Ron turned in time to see a boy Percy's age nod to Harry. George and Fred had picked up Ginny and began carrying her away, when the strange boy shouted, "It won't help her. She is only barely alive. She will be dead long before you could get her out of the Chamber."

"We have to try," Harry said, "the basilisk could come at any moment."

Tom Riddle walked the short distance to Harry and assured him, "It won't come until it's called." He then made a quick movement with his hand toward Harry's belt, grabbing his wand.

"Harry," Robert called out as Tom Riddle stepped back. Tom was holding Harry's wand, ready to cast any spell.

"I expected you to come, Harry," Tom said with sudden hatred, "I planned for you to come after I talked to you through the diary. But then you left. I was grateful when you returned so I could complete my revenge." He shouted something that only Harry could understand, and Harry heard an answering reply, as Tom snarled. "I should have expected you would bring your friends."

The face of the statue began to open, and Tom shouted in Parseltongue, "_Kill them_."

Harry used his own abilities and shouted, "_No, go back. Don't hurt anyone_."

The cold voice that he remembered replied. "_I am hungry. I will obey the master._"

"Everyone, get out," Harry yelled suddenly. "The basilisk is coming."

Suddenly, it was as though a spell was broken. Ron pulled out his wand and pointed it at Tom Riddle. "Tell it to go back."

"Or what," Tom laughed. "None of you can stop me unless you kill me. And you can't kill me. None of you. Your pitiful morals won't let you."

"Harry," Fred yelled, "Tell it to go away."

"I did," Harry yelled back. "It said no."

As a group, they started to run, with Tom Riddle behind them laughing, but everyone paused as they suddenly heard music. Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, came flying into the Chamber and dropped something at Harry's feet. The Sorting Hat. Harry bent down and grabbed it to pick it up, but something fell out clanging on the floor. It was a sword, a magnificent sword with a jewel-encrusted handle and the name Godric Gryffindor engraved onto the blade. Harry picked up the sword and looked up. "Fred, George, take Ginny and run. The rest of you, they'll need your help to get her out of here."

No one dared look back. The basilisk was surely out of its pit by now. Only Robert, closest to Harry, hesitated. Then he shouted to the others. "Go. Take Ginny. We will buy you time."

Reluctantly, the others ran out of the chamber, carrying Ginny with them. Harry looked at Robert, and asked him to go. Then they heard the noise behind them and Robert suggested they try running instead. If they reached the tunnel, it would be a close space and easier to defend. Harry agreed.

As they ran, they saw in the flickering flames the shadow of the great snake getting larger. The snake screamed suddenly as the music was heard again. Both Harry and Robert looked at the shadows and saw Fawkes' shadow as it attacked the monster. Riddle kept telling the monster to ignore the bird. Both boys paused in their running when Tom Riddle screamed. "Curse your damned bird. It's blinded my pet, but it can still smell you."

Robert was the first to look up, and stepped back at what he saw. The snake, free from its attacker was coming straight at them, even though it could no longer see. Then Robert grinned. "Be quick, Harry, strike hard as it comes down at us."

Harry turned but stepped backward in surprise, trying to keep the great snake in sight, and suddenly slipped on one of the slime-covered stones that made up the floor. He fell on his back and the sword went flying. Robert saw what was happening and quickly grabbed the sword and ran back to protect his brother.

The snake lowered its head directly over them and Robert swung at it to make it draw back. He hit and sliced through one of the fangs but the snake jumped sideways instead of upward, scoring the boy's arm with it's remaining fang. Then it came again. Robert held the sword straight up but his strength was failing. Suddenly Harry was next to him, putting his hands to the hilt. As the snake moved to swallow them, it impaled its head on the sword. The blade pierced the inside of the snake's mouth and went directly into it brain. In its dying gasp, the basilisk spewed gore and blood onto both boys.

Robert collapsed. Harry pulled the sword out of the snake, laying it on Robert's chest then dragged him though the V-shape left by the snake's open mouth as it died.

"Too bad," Tom Riddle said carelessly as he walked up. "Your double will be dead soon, but that doesn't matter. I want to talk to you first."

Harry grinned, almost laughing. His naval uniform that he was so proud of was covered in snake bile and blood, and muck and scum from the cavernous tunnel. His hat was gone. But he did not care. His brother was dying. His brother, who had saved his life, was losing his own, and Harry could do nothing about it. Then he saw the fang that his brother had cut off, and picked it up. He stood straight and began walking toward Tom Riddle.

"I've decided to kill you instead."

"You can't kill me, Harry. I'm not real. Not quite yet."

"No, you're not. You're just a phantom in a book. I don't know and I don't care how you did that but I'm putting an end to this." He walked past the figure of Tom Riddle and straight toward the diary.

"Alas," Tom said without remorse. "I will have to stop you."

"You can't," Harry replied. "Even if you were Voldemort you couldn't stop me."

"I am Lord Voldemort," Tom said, causing Harry to turn around. "I am what he was, what he is and what he will be. And I will finish what he started so long ago."

"I stopped him then, and I will stop you now," Harry threatened.

Tom laughed. "I would believe you, but Ginny's brother's told her the story about what happened, after you told it to your fake brother. She told me because she trusted me. I know it was a fluke that hurt my other self. It won't help you." He raised the wand, and shouted the killing curse. "Avada Kedav . . ." He raised the wand and shouted the killing curse. Then he did it again.

Harry smiled. Master Sean's spell had worked for him as well as for Robert.

Knowing he had time, he walked over to the diary, and stabbed it repeatedly with the fang. He was immediately sprayed with a shower of ink, and when he wiped his eyes he saw Tom Riddle, his body contorted with pain. Then Tom was gone.

Harry walked over to where Tom had last stood, and picked up his wand. He then returned to his brother. He paused when he saw Fawkes leaning over Robert, as though the bird was crying. Then he rushed to his brother as he remembered: Phoenix tears had healing powers.

As Harry stopped, Fawkes flew up and landed on his shoulder. Robert opened his eyes suddenly, and saw the sword lying on his chest.

"I assume we won, Harry."

"It was close, but thanks to you, we did. Can you get up?"

"I believe I can." Robert grabbed the sword as he stood up, then noticed the Sorting Hat and picked that up as well. As he joined his brother, he and Harry began to laugh for the same reason. Once he found out about this, Roger would demand to come along the next time something happened.

* * *

"And you are?" he asked, with a distinct Irish lilt.

Ernie looked up from where he had fallen asleep in the school kitchen. He was facing a boy his age with bright red hair.

"Uh, Ernie MacMillan. And you are?"

"Raiding the kitchen for a midnight snack."

Ernie saw that the boy was clearly wearing a nightshirt and a bathrobe. "This is a school?"

"Ah, you are a stranger," the boy said. "Welcome to Saint Cathal's Academy." He went to an icebox and pulled out a roast of beef. He grabbed a knife and cut off a good slice and offered it to Ernie. He cut off a larger slice for himself and returned the roast to the icebox. Then he sat down next to Ernie. "Whom do you know here?"

"Nobody," Ernie said. "They brought me here to get something to eat. I was waiting and I guess I fell asleep. The man who was with me must have left."

The boy smiled. "I saw him leave. I assume he went to find you a bed."

"I could use one," Ernie admitted. "I've been running around all day. And now I'm stuck in this world until they come for me," Ernie paused. "Should I have told you that?"

"Definitely," the boy said without hesitation. "It makes the conversation more interesting. Now I get to ask which world you came from."

Ernie smiled. "The same one that Robert went to when he left your world."

"Robert? As in Robert de Somerset?"

"You know him?" Ernie asked, happy about the coincidence.

"We were in the same class and house, until he left."

Ernie smiled. "Then you were a mate of his."

"We were close," the boy admitted, then smiled as Ernie palled.

"You never told me your name. Are you a lord?"

"I am," the boy admitted, "but we are in private and this is such a wonderful conversation. If you want a name, you can call me Owen. It is a pleasure to meet you, Ernie."

"Likewise, Owen."

"May I ask another question, or would you like to ask me one?"

Ernie shrugged his shoulders. "I wouldn't know what to ask. Go ahead."

"How many other worlds are there?"

Ernie frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You said that you come from the world that Robert went to. I was curious how many other worlds there were, that you know of."

Ernie froze. He had made a mistake. He had assumed that, because Dumbledore let everyone know about Robert's world, the same was true in this world. "You have to promise never to tell." He rushed the words out. "I don't think you're supposed to know."

Owen smiled reassuringly. "I know I am not supposed to. But I do. On the other hand, we agreed to be friends. I will therefore keep your secret so that you do not get into trouble. Would you like some more of the roast?"

"I'm full, thank you."

"Would you like a bed? We can tell everyone you are Lord Ernest from New England, come on a visit."

"What if they ask questions?"

"You are also a mute." Both boys laughed.

"What about the man? You said he was finding me a bed."

"He should not have left you. He will get into trouble as he richly deserves, and if he finds me here, I will get into trouble because I deserve it. I know you do not want me to get into trouble."

"Definitely not." Ernie nodded, and followed the other boy, anxious only to find the bed.

"Are you really from another world?" Owen asked as they left the kitchen, and Ernie nodded again. During their walk, they had an interesting conversation.

* * *

Harry was very happy and extremely filthy. He had the pleasure of tricking Lucius Malfoy into freeing the house elf, Dobby. Robert came up behind him. "A sock?"

"If its master gives a house elf an article of clothing, the house elf is free."

"I will never understand this world fully."

"That's why I like it. It's always filled with surprises."

Robert nodded and looked around him. "What do we do now?"

"I'm taking a shower before the feast. I need one. You should too."

Robert snorted. "I know that. I was asking for long term."

Harry sighed. "I suppose we go home."

As they began to walk away from the headmaster's office, Robert asked, casually, "How would you place Captain Grissom?"

"An odd question?" Harry pointed out. "Why would you ask that?"

"It should be obvious, Harry. I have to do something with my life. I am no longer my father's heir. My titles have been forfeit because of my death. And I understand I am a natural born sailor."

* * *

The feast was underway by the time Robert arrived. He looked for Harry, who was already sitting at his own table, surrounded by the Weasleys. Harry was back in his school robes, as was he. Robert walked over to the Hufflepuff table and sat down after receiving dozens of congratulations. Every Hufflepuff was excited by the fact that they could win the house cup. After all of the points that had been awarded, Gryffindor was less than twenty points ahead, and no one else was close.

"It was great," Susan had told everyone, "Dumbledore gave me a citation and Fifty points, but then he did the same for all three Weasleys. I mean, we were well behind already. Then he gave Harry a Special Award and two hundred points. He deserved it, I know but when Dumbledore did the same for Robert and Cedric . . ."

"I don't care for awards," Robert said casually. "I turned it down."

Susan stared at him. "You are joking?"

"Of course, I am. But I know something that you do not. Ernie was the one to take the message to Dumbledore. He has not yet returned."

The Hufflepuffs began murmuring among themselves. The chance to win the house cup was within their grasp. "Everyone else received fifty points at the least," several of the students pointed out. That would give Hufflepuff a thirty point lead.

Then a priest appeared behind Robert. "My Lord Robert Somerset."

"Father Maurice? May I help you?"

"I was asked to relay a message to Albus Dumbledore, and to yourself. It seems that your friend, Ernie, is missing."

"Missing, Sir?"

Father Maurice looked at the boy questioningly. "Yes. Missing. He had exhausted himself running hither and yon delivering messages that he was unable to follow your headmaster when he returned to this world."

"I am sure he is in no danger."

"Perhaps, but he was brought to the kitchens of Saint Cathal's for nourishment, and fell asleep. The journeyman watching him took the opportunity to report, but when he returned the boy was gone."

"Did they check the school, Father?" Robert asked. "Maybe one of the students . . ."

"They did a bed check. No students were out of bed."

"It is Ernie, Father. I am certain that he is fine."

Father Maurice gave him a pat on the shoulder. "I pray that you are correct, Robert." Then he walked away to talk to the teachers,

"Robert?" Cedric asked as he walked up to him. "Why are you smiling?"

"I know where Ernie is. Father Maurice told me."

"Where?"

"In my bed. When Saint Cathal's found out that I was still alive, they restored my bed to the dorm room in case I returned to the school. They did a bed check and saw that all the beds were full. Ergo ipso facto sum. If it is that way then that is the way it is."

Susan smiled. "How many house points will we lose when they find him?"

Robert smiled in return. "We have a saying in my world. We would have won the battle if only the archers had faced the right way."

A/N: A quick note to HLB. McGonagall has her full name back. It took a mere ten minutes to find the typo.

I would also like to note to Mrs. Cobain that I am not worried about how many reviews I get. True, I would like to be one of those people who get forty or more reviews per chapter. Everyone would.

The truth is that I wrote the story because I liked it. (Yes, I have written all of it, although I am still tinkering with the later chapters.) I'm posting it to see what everyone else thinks about it. Getting reviews is like getting bonus points when you play your favorite game. And my favorite game is: What would happen if? To be honest, I was actually surprised by how the story ended. It was not what I expected.

As a final note, I am not sure if I should tell you this, I am about a third of the way through the story with this chapter. That should give you an idea of what to expect.


	17. Nobility

Chapter Seventeen: Nobility

"And you are?" The boy asked when he saw that Ernie was awake.

"Andrew," Owen said quickly, "This is my cousin Ernest. He came last night to pay me a surprise visit. He is from New England."

Andrew snorted. "What game are you playing at? I would wager my father's estates that this boy lives not ten miles from here."

"Andrew?"

Andrew gave a look of disgust. "Fine. He is your cousin from New England. What title does he have, in case anyone should ask?"

"Baron?"

"If he is your cousin, you had better make him Viscount. Someplace obscure, in case someone checks."

"May I ask a question?" Ernie said.

"You were supposed to be a mute," Owen reminded him.

"Sorry, I've never been good at muting."

The fourth boy in the room stirred. "Owen? Andrew, what is going on? Who is the lacker in Robert's bed?"

"He is not a lacker," Andrew said. "He is Owen's cousin. From New England."

"Right." The boy rolled over and covered his head with his pillow.

"Viscount," Owen reminded Andrew.

"Chicago," Andrew said, pronouncing it Chick' - a(soft) - go. "It is a trading center near the end of one of the Finger Lakes. But keep him away from Master Barstel. He gave us that lesson in Geography only last week."

"I was there," Owen reminded him, and Andrew grinned.

"Are you ready, Ernest?"

"For what?"

"A tour of the school."

"Won't I be recognized?"

"If you talk like that you will," Andrew chided. "Talk slightly slower and do not contract your words." He paused. "Owen, is this worth it?"

Owen smiled. "He was under guard from someone at the Institute. They left him alone."

"Is he in trouble?"

"Not any more. The journeyman who let him get away is in trouble. I am merely testing the skills of the local security force at King's College."

"Does he have proper clothes?"

"He is almost your size," Owen countered.

"Stand up," Andrew said, and Ernie climbed out of bed. "You are a bit shorter. Some of my First of Year clothes should do. I have outgrown them, and mother told me to pass them on." He pulled out a small trunk from under his bed, and handed Ernie the key. Andrew then picked up a small bundle of his own clothes lying on a chair. "I will be getting cleaned and dressed if you need me."

* * *

Ernie was dressed in a variation of the attire that Robert wore when he returned to Hogwarts, except that his suit was blue velvet with what seemed to be standard laced collar and cuffs.

"The dining hall is this way," Owen told Ernie as they walked out of the dormitory building.

Ernie was amazed. "What is all of this?"

Owen stopped and pointed to a large three-story building on the far side of the field. "That is the Royal Thaumaturgical Institute. It is the greatest scientific research group in the world. They find out new things about magic every day. They are also supposed to do a lot of secret work for the Navy and the Army."

"That's, um, That is the building I came out of. It was dark, of course."

Owen nodded. "Things do look different at night." He pointed to the next building to the right. "That is the main building of the School of Sorcery. There are two others. That one to the right, and the one behind it. You can just make out the tip of the rear building. After that, we have the theological college of Saint Cathel which you can not see from here." Owen was next pointing to the large church that sat some hundred yards beyond the dorm building they had exited. "The college is on the other side of Saint Cathel's Cathedral. And this complex, with seven buildings is Saint Cathel's Academy."

Ernie was amazed. "This place is huge."

"And you have only seen half of it. But we should get something to eat before we do anything else."

Ernie wasn't sure of what to expect but breakfast was not the way he thought it would be. Everyone sat at tables of four or six, and servers brought the food. Each server gave a portion of what they had unless the student declined. Ernie was even asked how he liked his eggs.

Conversation was also easy. Anyone who asked about New England was told there were more trees, but most students said nothing, or pointed out their favorite places in the school for Ernie to visit. No one thought a surprise visitor unusual.

After breakfast, Owen gave a tour of the Academy, explaining the central purpose of each of the buildings. As they entered another building, Ernie couldn't help but comment. "I thought I would stand out like a sore thumb, but I seem to fit in."

"It is simple," Owen explained. "You have a name and a place and a reason for being here, and no one knows why it should be otherwise. That is why you fit in. You should enjoy this class, by the way. It is Modern History."

"Class? But it's Saturday."

"Yes. 'IT IS' Saturday. We have History. Then we will change for Athletics."

"In my . . ." Ernie paused as Owen gave him a sharp look. "In my SCHOOL we have Saturdays free."

"Here it is a half day." Owen added with a grin, "although we may take more time with athletics than we need to."

They sat down in the classroom, and the teacher called the role. He then pointed to Ernie and demanded he announce himself. Owen reminded him to give the full title as rehearsed. Ernie stood up and cleared his throat.

"With your pardon, Professor." He bowed slightly. "I am Lord Ernest Macmillan, heir to the Viscount of Chicago in New England. I am here to visit with my cousin, Owen TyrConnell." He pointed with his hand to Owen.

"You are welcome to my class, young man. And I compliment you on your manners. I am grateful they teach respect in New England. It was not what I expected."

Ernie was confused as everyone laughed politely at him. It was obviously a small joke aimed at New England and at him but now Ernie was on the spot. He was expected to say something. He tried for politeness.

"Thank you, Professor," Ernie said slowly, "and while I am here I will try to act as respectfully as my cousin does."

This time the entire class, including Owen and the teacher, roared with laughter. Several students even applauded Ernie, but the boy from Hufflepuff had no idea why his statement caused such an uproar.

As everyone calmed down, The teacher told Ernie to sit, adding that, "I am glad to see the TyrConnell wit has not been diluted by time or distance. You are a welcome addition to this class, Lord Ernest."

* * *

Owen and Ernie were back in the dorm changing for the next class. Ernie was surprised to find himself wearing white shorts and a white cotton shirt with leggings and leather footwear that was a kind of cross between a sneaker and a boot.

Owen was giving him a quick rundown of what was expected on the field. "Remember, we are at school. Do not use anyone's title, even if you know it. But once class ends, remember who is a Lord and who is a Sir. And all of the help are called Goodman or Goodwoman."

"It sounds easy enough, but what will we be doing for athletics?"

Owen smiled. "Hopefully football. I assume you do not know the game."

Ernie grinned. He had always been fast on his feet but he had no knack for flying. That was why he would join his cousin, whose mother was muggle born, when he went to play sports. "You can only use feet and head?"

"That is it," Owen said, grateful for the coincidence of worlds. He explained the rules in case there were differences as they walked out to the field, but Ernie stopped him at one point.

"Owen, I wanted to tell you that I, uh, I AM having a great time, but I wanted to know why. Why are you doing this for me?"

"I wanted to know who you were," Owen said, seriously. "I wanted to know the type of person that Robert would choose as a friend. And, after our conversation last night, I owed you the chance to learn firsthand about this world." He paused. "Ernest, Robert made a good choice, in my humble opinion."

"About the journeyman?"

Owen's grin returned. "I have a reputation for testing the rules, although I will rarely break them. The Journeyman Sorcerer breached security by leaving you unattended, a fact you proved by your rash statements to me. That is why I did not tell anyone in authority that you were with me. I am curious how long they will take."

"But the journeyman will get into trouble."

"He will survive, and when the truth comes out, he will understand how fortunate he was that his error was not more serious."

Ernie nodded, and decided that he was going to enjoy himself as much as possible.

* * *

Captain Sir Mortimer Sheffield was not happy to be sitting across from His Majesty. He was only the messenger in this case but it was still an unpleasant circumstance. He handed over the report and explained the basics as the King handed the papers to Lord Bontriomphe. Lord Bontriomphe was there to act as witness to His Majesty and advisor as need be. The two reasons he was chosen were his eidetic memory, and his relationship to the Somerset children.

Captain Sheffield explained the substance of the problem facing them. "He is a wizard born child in their world. He was brought into our world because of the emergency resulting from the actions of Lord Robert de Somerset and his brother. His physical condition was such that it was decided to let him rest before he returned. Apparently he was used as a courier repeated times before delivering his final message. Professor Dumbledore noted that the boy is quick and sure-footed, making him useful in this chore."

His Majesty was not amused. "Her Highness is in Dover with the Prince of Britain and the Duke of Lancaster, enjoying the sunshine, and We are here because of this twelve-year-old boy. This matter is supposed to be kept as secret as possible. If that boy has told anyone about his origins, the damage will be irreparable. Even now, Our agents tell us that the Poles are beginning to doubt the stories from their own spies. We want them to keep doubting. Do everything necessary to find the boy."

"Excuse me, your Majesty." Lord Bontriomphe had looked through the report. "Captain, your report tells us that the Security Staff at King's College did a complete accounting of everyone who was supposed to be on the campus, including bed checks at the Academy?"

"That is correct."

"How many beds were empty?"

"Two, but both boys were in the Hospital ward."

"Only two?"

His Majesty smiled. "Lord Bontriomphe, do you know something?"

"Your Majesty, when Lord Robert returned to us, Saint Cathel's Academy restored his bed to his room, under the assumption that he would be returning to the school. If his bed is still there, it should have been empty."

Captain Sheffield nodded thoughtfully. "If memory serves me correctly, Your Majesty, O'Connell's heir is one of Lord Robert Somerset's former roommates. He is notorious for finding, and exploiting, errors and faults of operation. On his behalf I should note that he does not, usually, do this for personal gain, but to enhance his reputation with his father. If he is the one responsible, we may only need add him to our conspiracy."

The Lord Seneschal, who had stayed in the background until this moment, chose to make his opinion known. "Your Majesty, this boy does have certain qualifications that make him most appropriate to our plans, if the captain's suspicions are correct."

His Majesty nodded. "IF is the key word in this case. If O'Connell's heir is involved, and if it is as you say, bring both of them to Us. It is time to set the next phase of Our plan into motion."

"With your permission, Your Majesty. I would like to take care of this matter personally as I do know by sight the boy in question."

"Do so, and report back to Us as soon as practicable, regardless of which side of the coin is facing up."

His August Majesty, John IV Plantagenet, rose from his chair and left the room.

* * *

Harry woke up late in the day, as did almost everyone else. The midnight feast lasted well until dawn.

He remembered that Hermione and Colin were already in the hall when he entered. Robert was at the Hufflepuff table with Justin Finch-Fetchley. Everything seemed almost normal. Hagrid was still missing but he would be back shortly. Dumbledore had informed the Minister that Hagrid's diary was a forgery, and revealed the truth of the matter, to a degree. Harry's only regret was that his uniform was ruined. He had wanted to see Hermione's reaction.

Colin Creevey was as quiet as he was after Robert first appeared, but Harry was too busy to notice for quite a while. When he looked, Robert was talking to him, and Colin was laughing. That was when Harry remembered. Colin did not know, either. He looked for Hermione and she was talking to Ron. When she caught his eye, she stood up and curtsied. Harry laughed, then turned back to Cedric Diggory who was trying to tell him something about Ernie MacMillan.

That was last night, or early this morning. Harry dragged himself out of bed and opened his trunk, pulling out his uniform. Then he stopped. His uniforms were in his trunk. His Naval Uniforms. Hermione would be surprised after all. He dressed quickly and went down to the common room which was nearly empty, except for Colin sitting by the fireplace. Harry hesitated but Colin saw him and waved him over.

With a feeling of Deja Vu, Harry walked over and sat down next to the first year. "I did not, um, didn't get a chance to talk to you last night."

"I know," Colin said. "I had a lot to think about. I'm not sure I understand it all. Is that a real uniform?"

Harry nodded. "A new life for a new world."

Colin looked at the flames in the fireplace. "You're leaving. You're going to go back with Robert and stay there. I liked you better as Harry and Charlie."

"Yeah, so did I." Harry and Charlie were a pair of twins who were building something together. But now they were Robert and Henry, two brothers 'with new names for new lives'.

"It was easy," Harry said suddenly.

"What was easy?"

"I killed someone yesterday."

"Ron told me. He was coming back to see if he could help. He saw the basilisk die and, you know, the rest of it. That guy wasn't real. You didn't kill a real person."

Harry gave Colin a grim look. "He was not human but he was real, and I killed him. I did it deliberately. I knew what I was going to do, and I did it exactly as I intended. And when it was over, I felt nothing. I killed him because it was what I had to do."

Colin nodded. He knew there was nothing to say. For a brief time they had been friends, because Colin had changed. Now Harry had changed and that friendship was something in the past. "Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"What's it like to grow up?"

"Colin, I'm only twelve."

"Last September, I was walking out of the common room with you, and my life change. Then I had six months of my life taken away. The world went on without me." A tear rolled down Colin's cheek. "The world changed on me. And everyone is telling me to grow up."

"Don't," Harry said. "Don't ever grow up. The first thing you lose is your immortality. In exchange you get the knowledge that nothing lasts forever."

"You're quoting someone."

Harry pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to Colin. "The Captain said that to me one day when we were sailing back to port. He was hoping he wasn't too late. He was."

He was too late the moment the body of the Brigantine captain hit the water.

Colin nodded but he couldn't think of anything to say. Harry's cryptic words described what he was feeling. Perhaps Colin Creevey was the one who had changed again, but Harry seemed like Harry one more. They were still friends but they would not laugh as easily as they once did.

"Harry, did you hear about Ernie MacMillan?"

"Cedric Diggory was trying to tell me last night, but I could not follow him."

Colin smiled. Harry was talking more like Robert. "Robert told me that Ernie actually went to the other world."

Harry looked surprised. "Why?"

"To save time. He had to tell Dumbledore about the Chamber."

Harry nodded. "I did not see him last night. Did he say how Ernie liked it?"

Colin couldn't help but smile. "Ernie hasn't come back yet."

"WHAT?"

"He never came back with Dumbledore. Rumor has it that they lost him."

"Maybe he'll show up with a twin brother," Harry suggested.

"It's happened before," Colin said, and they both laughed.

* * *

The athletic coach eyed Ernie then waved for him to stay with Owen. He sorted everyone into two teams, and began the warm up lessons. Owen was right. It would be football practice. It was strange, but Ernie realized he was having the time of his life. He was having a vacation from himself.

They had warmup, then practiced kicking and other skills for most of an hour. As the class neared the end, two of the boys began talking. Owen grabbed Ernie's arm and pulled him toward the two and they stood behind one of the boys. Ernie wasn't sure but he thought it might be the other boy from the dorm room. Andrew joined them as did a few others. In a short time, two teams were ready and they lined up on the field. The instructor pulled out a whistle, and the game began.

It went badly. Ernie, because of his speed, was playing forward, but he was either out of practice or the other side was very good. They were down by three goals when the whistle blew, announcing the end of the first forty. Ernie expressed his doubts to Owen, but was told not to worry. It was bad day for all of them. The remark was echoed by several other players. The next forty minutes were stronger play, and neither team was scoring. Ernie accepted that they were going to lose but hated the fact that they had nothing to show, a sentiment also echoed by the other players.

It was then that Ernie saw a chance, The ball was passed badly to Ernie's opposite number after it was intercepted. As the other boy tried to take control of the ball, Ernie rushed at him and dropped, kicking the ball though the other's legs, right to where one of his own teammates was waiting. He limped slightly as he stood up but he had the assist.

"How is your leg?" Owen asked as they walked off the field well after the end of the class.

"It will hurt tomorrow, but I will live."

Owen nodded. "It was a good move. You helped us save face."

"I only wish that someone I knew could have seen it." Ernie looked up to see an Armsman walking toward them. "Um, Owen, someone I know did see it."

Captain Sheffield walked up to the two boys. "Ernie, how nice to see you again. That was a good move, near the end. Did you enjoy yourself?" He bent his face down until it was an inch away from Ernie's. "Who knows?" he whispered.

Ernie whispered back, "Only Owen. He told me I should not tell anyone."

Captain Sheffield became overly friendly. "It is time to take you home, young man. Perhaps your friend would like to join us."

"I need to change," Ernie said.

"No, you do not," Sheffield hissed softly.

In as friendly a manner as possible, The Captain led the two boys from the field to a waiting coach.

* * *

Ernie was ushered into a conference room in whatever government building he was taken to, where he waited with everyone else. Captain Sheffield introduced them to Lord Bontriomphe, the other person in the room. Then they turned as the far door opened. A tall blond man walked in, dressed in the fanciest uniform Ernie had ever seen. He was followed by another man who was very well dressed and carrying a sword.

Ernie stared, oblivious to the noise around him, completely unsure of what to do. This was clearly the man in charge and he did not look happy.

"So this is the boy who has been causing Us such problems."

"I can explain, Sir," Ernie said, almost shouting as he rushed the words out. "I fell asleep and Owen found me and took me to a bed and I slept then we couldn't find . . ."

The tall man stopped Ernie from talking by putting his hand over the boy's mouth. "That is better. We assume you do not know who We are."

Ernie shook his head no. "Should I have said My Lord, uh, My Lord?"

"It would have helped. Captain, from the way he is dressed, was he playing football? Did he win?"

"It was a very poor first forty, Your Majesty, but he made an excellent assist near the end of the second forty."

Ernie's eyes went wide when he heard the words, Your Majesty. He did not know why but he now knew who the man was. "Oh, God. I'm dead."

"NOT YET. You are dead when We say you are dead." His Majesty smiled. "As it is, you have proven yourself useful to Us." He turned his head. "Owen. There is no reason to frown. We know the why and wherefore of what you did. We thank you."

"Yes, Your Majesty," a shaky voice said.

His Majesty turned back to Ernie. "Do you know what you are supposed to do when We walk into a room?"

"Um, Should I . . . Am I supposed to kneel or something."

"Under these circumstances, yes." Ernie quickly got down on his knees. "On one knee." His Majesty was grinning as he saw Owen give a confused look, and turned to the man behind him. "Do you have the list?"

The man, the Lord Seneschal, handed a folded sheet to His Majesty. His Majesty pointed to a name on the sheet of paper. The Lord Seneschal frowned. "Are you certain of this, Your Majesty?"

"It is a formality, My Lord Seneschal, and this lad is in the right place at the right time. May We have Our sword?"

His Majesty turned to Ernie, who was staring at floor, afraid to look up. "Do you accept Us as your judge in this matter?"

Ernie nodded.

"You must answer, yes or no."

"Yes," Ernie said, consigned to his fate. Then he quickly added, "Your Majesty."

"Goodman Ernest MacMillan. First I must inform you that you are not in ill favor with Us. It has come to Our attention that, because of quick action on your part, two of Our subjects were saved from certain death. This gains from Us Our thanks as both of these boys are dear to Us. It has also been made clear to Us that, when faced with discovery, you acted with diligence, if not good sense, in keeping your origins a secret. This pleases Us as well. In gratitude We choose to make you one of Our own, to have a rightful place in this world should you chose." The sword was tapped once on each shoulder then on Ernie's head. "Rise and stand among your equals, Ernest, Baron MacMillan of MontClaire."

His Majesty handed the sword back to the Lord Seneschal, and waited for Ernie to rise. The fear was still there but confusion was taking its place. "We are in military dress, Lord Ernest. You need only bow when we enter or leave. Otherwise you will genuflect. Ignorance once is amusing. Ignorance twice is an insult."

Ernie nodded and bowed as instructed, until he heard the door close. He was alone in the room with Owen and Captain Sheffield. He asked the only question that he could think of.

"What just happened?"

Captain Sheffield smiled. "You have been made a peer of the realm, My Lord."

"And I, Captain?" Owen asked.

"Owen TyrConnell, you have been added to the conspiracy concerning the other world, the key point of which is to limit the knowledge that we have made contact with this world, a world which appears to be more advanced in scientific research than we are. This world is also willing to share their knowledge with us. You are now part of that secret, and if you reveal that fact to anyone it will be considered an act of treason. Do you understand?"

"I do, Captain. Please know that I have already sworn an oath not to reveal this secret. It was safe from the very moment I heard of it."

"That's true, Captain," Ernie added. "I thought he already knew when I told him where I came from. He corrected me at once."

"And the rest of it was for fun, My Lord?"

Owen smirked as he answered for Ernie. "In part, Captain. Lord Ernest told me about his world. I tried to show him what our world was like." Owen became serious. "Captain Sheffield, I must report that the Journeyman Sorcerer responsible for him left him unprotected. It is my hope that he will not forget his responsibilities again."

"Duly noted," Captain Sheffield said. "We will inform the proper authority of your complaint." He turned to Ernie. "My Lord, you looked comfortable when you were on the playing field. Did you feel like you belonged?"

Ernie nodded. "I did, Captain."

"I can not tell you the why of what happened today except that you made a strong impression upon His Majesty. And now, My Lord, it is time to take you home."

Ernie nodded as he was led back to the waiting coach. On the way back to Kings College he thought to ask. "Where is MontClaire?"

Captain Sheffield laughed. "MontClaire is not anywhere, My Lord. It was a peninsula of land that fell into the sea centuries ago."

"Then why am I a Baron of, of nothing?"

Owen looked at Captain Sheffield, then grinned. "So that you can be a Baron. You said you were a friend of Lord Robert. If he were here, you would have to bow to him, and . . . My Lord Baron, I think I understand the why of this. Captain, Is Lord Robert returning to the school."

"Perhaps, but he will be returning for the summer months. It has not been decided."

Owen nodded to Ernie. "Do you see? If he comes, he would surely invite his friends, if he could."

Ernie smiled at the thought. He also smiled at the idea of visiting the school again. Perhaps the next time they will win the match.

* * *

Ernie said his goodbyes to Owen, and to Andrew, who made him a present of his old clothes, although they were far from old. Ernie thanked him for helping out a poor relative. Andrew laughed and said they were hand-me-downs to him. He himself was a poor younger brother.

At Owen's suggestion, Ernie changed back into the blue velvet suit for his return home. It saved the trouble of revealing his own clothes and their different style. Plus, Owen noted, it always payed to impress people. They bade him farewell and Captain Sheffield led him away as politely as he could.

After he left, Andrew asked. "Who is he, really?"

Owen laughed. "He is the Baron of MontClaire. Do you believe that?"

"And how did he get here?"

"He came to visit friends of the family and became lost."

"Lost?"

"It is useful on occasion. Becoming lost."

Andrew nodded. "Do you think he will return? We could use a good forward."

* * *

"Your Majesty," the Lord Seneschal said. "The Captain has delivered his report. The boy is being returned to his own world. He seemed to accept the reasoning that the Captain hinted at. And your judgement was right about TyrConnell's heir. He even made a formal complaint."

"We have been very lucky this day, My Lord," His Majesty said, "and now we must decide what to do about the rest of the cast of characters we are dealing with. Dumbledore has been most helpful in supplying Us with the information we need."

"The entire matter was explained to him, Your Majesty. He agrees with our course completely. He sees this, rightly I think, as a mutual effort. He also loves the boy, Lord Henry, and will do everything he can for him."

"Do you think we can get the boy to give up magic and stay with us?"

"Your Majesty, if the right person would ask him, Lord Henry would say yes." The Lord Seneschal paused. "I have talked with the Marquis of London. I think Lord Henry has already said yes. The Captain's report says that when he last saw the boy, he was still in uniform."

His Majesty laughed. "I do love irony, William. We have what we want from the boy, but now we must tell him he has to stay at his school, for at least one more year."

"John, Is this because of the prophecy that Professor Dumbledore spoke of?"

"It is. We do not know the strength of prophecies in their world. If we brought the boy here to stay, that could lead his enemy to find a way to cross the planes and create havoc on myriad worlds. We must leave Lord Henry at the school until we have a chance to resolve this matter."

"There is no need to rush," the Lord Seneschal added. "Our research will take years to complete as it is."

"Then you do understand Our motives, My Lord."

The Lord Seneschal bowed as he was dismissed.

* * *

Professor Quirrell smiled as the young boy was escorted into his office. "I see you've changed your hat for a headdress, Ernie Macmillan."

Ernie was surprised by the statement but understood it was a reference to his clothes, then his eyes lit up. "Do you mean I've gone native, Professor?"

Quirrell laughed. "I think I do. I must ask how you did it. Anyone would take you for a lordling dressed like that." He paused and asked facetiously, "You are not a thief, are you? Is that why you are with the Armsmen?"

Captain Sheffield gave Ernie a polite cuff on the back of the head. "Go ahead. Do it."

Ernie looked at the Captain and nodded, then he turned back to Professor Quirrell. "Professor, I do humbly apologize for the inconvenience I have caused the Institute by my untoward disappearance."

"Keep going." There was amusement in the Captain's voice.

"I ask you to forgive me," Ernie paused to look at the Captain, who nodded, "and I will willingly submit to any punishment you may set."

Professor Quirrell smirked. "I am two pounds richer because of you, dear boy. I have no reason to punish you."

Ernie said the only thing he could think of.

"HUH?"

"The match," Professor Quirrell said, pointing out the window. "Your play was pitiful for the first twenty minutes, but your teammates made every effort to hide the fact by playing just as badly. I had the pleasure of watching the match through one of the scopes and I must tell you, it was a terrible thing to watch." He paused to laugh as Ernie blushed. Then he leaned forward as though to conspire. "I saw it though. I saw your team start to clique, and I told Professor Gregory that if they were to score you would surely be involved. You are fast on your feet." He put his hands up with an air of resignation. "The pity is that poor Professor Gregory doubted me, and is now poorer Professor Gregory because of it."

"Then you're not mad at me?" Ernie asked in relief.

"NO. I am mad at that journeyman for not taking his task more seriously. Captain Sheffield took the liberty to explain the situation to me and tell me where you were before he went out to fetch you."

Ernie stared in surprise. These people had known exactly what happened to him. Professor Quirrell had just revealed that Captain Sheffield had known where he was before the match even began. He turned to the Captain with a questioning look and received a smile in response. He asked the question anyway. "Why did you let me play?"

"I was curious, My Lord, what type of person you were. Anyone who was curious learned a lot from you by watching you play." The Captain smiled again, leaving Ernie to wonder what the Captain had seen in him.

"My Lord?" Quirrell asked.

Ernie looked to the Captain but the Captain remained closemouthed. He continued to smile but refused to say anything. Ernie turned around, knowing it was up to him to explain.

"Professor, I was . . ." He paused, trying to think of what to say and how to say it. "It seems . . . .Professor, how do I refer to the King?"

"In what context?"

"Well . . . He made me a Baron."

Quirrell's eyes lit up in surprise and humor. "In that case you would refer to him as His August Majesty. If he honored a friend of yours, you would say His Most Nobel Majesty. Would you care to try?"

Ernie nodded. "I think I can do it. His August Majesty saw fit to make me . . ."

"Elevate me," Captain Sheffield coached.

" . . . to elevate me to, um, Captain?"

"To elevate me to the peerage by appointing me."

Ernie smiled. "His August Majesty has seen fit to elevate me to the peerage by appointing me Baron of MontClaire, in honor of duties I have performed in his service."

"Well done," Professor Quirrell shouted as he applauded and Captain Sheffield grabbed Ernie's shoulders to give him a friendly shake.

"That was well said, My Lord. And well thought out," the Captain told him. "You even thought to ask, rather than guess how to make your announcement. You will make a good Baron with training."

"Perhaps I should put in a word to Saint Cathel's, My Lord." Professor Quirrell offered.

Ernie smiled at the offer but was assured it could be made real, should he ever choose. Then the Professor mentioned the need to return to his own world and Ernie faltered. He remembered the teachers deliberately closing the doors to the Great Hall as they had done during every meal since the last attack, and then the reaction that Robert and Harry received when they entered. He asked if he could return just after the evening meal began.

The journeyman, David, was called over and asked to give Ernie a tour of the Institute until it was time to leave. He was also given the admonishment not to leave or lose his charge again. David grinned his embarrassment and led the boy away to explain the various scientific experiments.

"Did I play my part well, Captain? The Baronage was a complete surprise, but I see its purpose."

"A curious boy," the Captain said. "I watched him as he played and I could see the way his mind worked. He was grateful to play, then upset that he could not do his part. And he was happy to be of help as he caught his footing."

Professor Quirrell nodded. "The school he attends has four houses. As you know, he is in the house called Hufflepuff after one of the four founders of the school. Hufflepuffs are generally described as. . . how did that poem go?. . . patient, just and loyal, unafraid of toil."

"Noble virtues," the Captain agreed. "Lord Robert is in that house"

"He and Lord Ernest are 'best mates'. That is why I agreed to his request. He has to explain himself. Why not do it all at once. And he has the perfect excuse to show off. May I ask, do you know of MontClaire? I am not familiar with it."

"I was ordered to tell him it was a peninsula which fell into the sea ages ago, that it was a title of courtesy. We will let Lord Robert de Somerset correct him." At the Professor's confused look, the Captain shrugged his shoulders. "His Majesty will have his jest."

* * *

Ron was sitting with Susan at the Hufflepuff table. While they were waiting to eat, he decided to ask Cedric firsthand about what happened to Professor Lockhart. Cedric was just mentioning Azkaban when the hall went quiet. Susan looked up and said, "Merlin's Beard! Ernie's back."

Someone at the Slytherin table was heard to mutter, "not another one."

Ernie walked slowly to his table, enjoying the surprise he had caused, knowing that no one knew what to make of him. His grin grew as he saw Harry wearing his uniform. When their eyes met, he made it a point to salute the Gryffindor. Then he turned to sit down next to Robert who had as big a grin and was eager to ask for an explanation.

"MISTER MACMILLAN." His name was said in an overly loud voice by the headmaster, who was now standing. "You are late. May I ask why?"

Ernie looked up and noticed the priest, Father Maurice, was trying to stifle a laugh. It was obvious that the teachers, at the least, knew what had happened. Owen's words came to mind at that point: 'you will enjoy this'.

"With all due respect, Professor," Ernie called out as loudly as he could, "I have not yet foresworn my titles. I must ask that you refer to me properly"

"We've lost the house cup for sure," Susan muttered. "He'll take away ten thousand points because of that."

Dumbledore smiled. "My apologies, Lord MontClaire. Will you foreswear your titles now?"

Ernie couldn't help but laugh. Everyone he could see was looking at him with questions in their eyes. "I foreswear, Professor."

"Thank you. MISTER MACMILLAN. You are late."

"I'm, uh, I am sorry, Sir. I was delayed."

"And Hufflepuff will lose ten points because of that delay. You may sit down."

Robert made room for Ernie and immediately asked his question. "Why are you a Lord?"

"It is an amusing story," Ernie said. "Oh, Owen said to say hello."

Robert stared at him, openmouthed. If Ernie had expected the reaction, it would have been his best joke of the night.

* * *

"MontClaire? Are you sure?" Robert asked, as they sat in the common room. He had gone to his trunk to get a book and returned with it to sit at the table with Ernie. Several others kept quiet as they listened in.

Ernie frowned at the way Robert asked the question. "Captain Sheffield said it was some piece of land that fell into the ocean ages ago. It's an honorary title."

"Why would he tell you that? It makes no sense."

"He didn't actually say, but I had the impression that it was so you could bring your friends to visit, when you go home."

Robert patted the book in front of him. "This is the book of lineage, revised as of last June. It lists all titles and who holds them as well as the known heirs. There is also a listing of vacant titles. Ernie, there are a number of courtesy titles around. Before I was declared dead, I was the Earl of Cahill. The Cahill district, west of London was incorporated into the Marquisate that my bother Roger now holds. For all practical purposes, Cahill does not exist. My father gave me the title as a courtesy. It was his way of saying that I would be his heir. Do you follow what I am saying?"

"Yeah, but that's exactly what my title is."

"That can not be, Ernie. Under the Rules of Title and Nobility as revised in 1728, no lord may hold more than one active fief, but they were to be dispersed generationally. Some lords at the time had as many as thirty titles. The record was thirty-seven. Each Lord would give a title to each of his children, the eldest son receiving the excess to distribute in turn to his children. On the other hand, there were also numerous inactive fiefs, such as the Earldom of Cahill. The Marquis of London may continue to hold that title, because it signifies nothing. But if the line should be broken, and the Marquisate return to the King, all miscellaneous titles are automatically extinguished. Do you understand that?"

Ernie was perplexed. "Does that mean I'm not really a Baron, or," his eyes took on a glow, "or that I am a real Baron?"

Robert smiled. "You are a Baron. I have no idea why you were made one, unless it was a diplomatic courtesy, but it is a real title." Robert opened the book and inspected the index. He shuffled through the book until he came to the appropriate page and began to look for the name of MontClaire. He thumped the book with his hand. "There it is."

"And."

"The Barony of MontClaire is the northeastern part of the Lesser Gloucester Island."

"And where is that?"

"New England, of course. South of the mouth of the Gateway River, which leads to the Finger Lakes."

"I know that New England is North America but . . ." Ernie shrugged his shoulders.

Robert turned to the back of the book, which held a foldout map of the world, and he pointed out Prince Edward Island. Anthony Goldstein smiled, noting that the Gateway River was the Saint Lawrence Seaway and the Finger Lakes were the Great Lakes. He had to ask, "How did they get the name, the Finger Lakes?"

Robert held up all the fingers of one hand. "Because there are five of them."

A/N: A quick apology to I wasn't trying to rant. I was trying to be philosophical. I will not try to do that again unless I have been awake for more than a half hour. On the other hand, you did say it was a nice rant.


	18. The Perseus

Chapter Eighteen: The Perseus

Robert and Harry were sitting by the lake. It was June 15, and the last day of school. Neither was looking forward to leaving. There would be too many goodbyes to say.

"Ernie is going with us," Robert said suddenly. "He said his parents were excited to hear the news."

"I guessed as much." Harry looked at his brother. "I saw him talking to Father Maurice."

Robert nodded. "He told me his father wanted to know about some things, about what to expect." He paused. "Here he comes now."

Ernie walked up and asked to join them. As he sat down, he mentioned that his parents were in Hogsmeade. He smirked when Harry and Robert began grinning. "Dad thinks we should check out the barony. He's been talking with everybody, making arrangements and all."

"Ernie? Does your father know that the average trip across the Atlantic is seven to ten days?" Robert eyed his friend, waiting for an answer.

"I didn't," Ernie admitted, "but I guess my dad does. He said we would spend the holiday there, in the Empire. I guess that means that we'll be coming back together."

Harry and Robert looked at each other. Harry nodded and Robert explained. "We are not coming back."

"But Dumbledore and Father Maurice were discussing it. Father Maurice is going to be made the student counselor so he has a valid reason to be here."

"That is strange," Harry and Robert said as one.

Ernie smirked again. "It's weird when you two do that."

"It is weird," Harry admitted. "Robert, do you understand what is going on?"

"We will have to ask, but I have a feeling that we will not receive a straight answer."

It was Father Maurice the boys ended up talking to. "I thought you had been informed of the decision. I was also given the impression that the two of you agreed." He looked at Harry. "I should have understood my error by the fact that you continue to wear your uniform."

"I am required to do so," Harry pointed out. "I am a naval officer."

"You need only resign your commission," Father Maurice pointed out. "It is not that great a matter. Then you can continue to go to Hogwarts to study magic."

Harry paused. It was something he had not considered at all. He could have the best of both worlds. He could still have a family, and he could still have his friends. Then Father Maurice said something that he did not hear.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, would you like me to forward your resignation?"

The sound of a man's body falling into the water echoed in Harry's head. "NO."

Robert looked at Harry in surprise. "But then you cannot return to school."

Harry stared back at his brother. "I have my duty, Robert. I do not know the words, but I feel that I need to do this. I agreed to do this. I accepted this. I have a duty."

Father Maurice nodded. "I will pass the information on to the headmaster. Robert, do you wish to remain at Hogwarts."

"I did."

"There is time enough to decide. There is no cause to make any rash decisions." Father Maurice smiled. "Regardless of what happens you must still prepare to go home tomorrow."

* * *

Harry said his goodbyes to Ron and Hermione. He would not take the Hogwarts Express to London with them. He also said goodbye to Hedwig. He could not keep her, but Hagrid promised to take good care of the owl until Harry returned.

Harry gathered the rest of his school things into his trunk to be put in storage, and carried his travel bag to the Great Hall where a fair sized crowd was waiting. Robert was there as was Father Maurice and Professor Quirrell. Ernie was also there with his parents and his brother and sister, all of whom were dressed accordingly. When everyone was ready, the transfer was made, and Harry took a deep breath.

Captain Sheffield was waiting for them. "My Lord Somerset, My Lord Lieutenant, if you will follow me. The coach is waiting for you."

Robert thanked him, and turned to Ernie to say goodbye. He saw his family standing there, slightly nervous, and couldn't stop himself. He bowed politely. "Lord MontClaire, good luck to you. And if you chance to be in London, please call."

Ernie smiled weakly in return. Robert had reminded him of his position and he felt embarrassed, as though it was a joke. Then he understood that it was Lord Robert de Somerset who had addressed him. That was because Lord Robert had just addressed his father as Goodman MacMillan. He paused until his friend was done with his courtesies, then asked, "Um, Lord Robert. How do my parents address me?"

"In public, as My Lord MontClaire. In private, it would depend on what you had done. You will get used to it, My Lord."

* * *

It was Saturday afternoon. Everyone who was invited, including the Duke of Cambridge and the Dowager Duchess of Cumberland, were gathered in the family chapel. They were waiting.

Harry walked in, dressed in white. He even wore white leather shoes. His pants were the standard Navy issue which seemed appropriate but his shirt was a loose rumly thing made of lace left open in the front to reveal most of his upper chest. He walked into the chapel as directed and to the baptismal font where the Archbishop of London was waiting. (You couldn't have the brother of the Marquis de London baptized by an ordinary prelate). As he stood there, Her Grace the Dowager Duchess of Cumberland came up to him and stood by his side. She would be his Godmother. He heard a noise behind him. His Godfather had entered the chapel.

Master Sean O'Lochlainn put his hand on Harry's shoulder and the Archbishop began the ceremony.

"Do you, Henry Somerset, enter freely into this church?"

A firm voice behind him said, "I do freely enter."

Harry stood in silence as the Archbishop asked his several questions, and Master Sean answered all of them. Harry was then anointed with oil on his forehead, his lips and over his heart, which explained why his shirt was left open. A pinch of salt was placed in his mouth, and his head sprinkled with holy water as the Archbishop said the final prayers. As a last act the Archbishop laid both hands on Harry's head to cure any illness that he might have. A slight headache, caused by nerves, instantly disappeared and Harry felt more relaxed.

This was the power of the Church in this world. In the fifteenth century it was a priest who had first discovered the art of healing by magic, the laying on of hands. Over time, it had become the prerogative of the Church because strong faith aided the skills of the talented individual tremendously. (The same held true of Jewish and Turkic religious leaders as well.) The ability to heal became required of all members of the clergy above the rank of Monsignor. That meant all Bishops, Archbishops and Cardinals, as well as the Pope, had this talent. This was why there was no Reformation, although there was a Renaissance of sorts. Who would denounce a church whose main duties where to heal the sick, in the body as well as the soul.

All this was a fleeting thought in Harry's mind as the Archbishop welcomed him into the faith. Harry was led to the Altar and told to kneel for the last part of the ceremony, where he was served the wine and bread of his first Communion. When this was done he rose to his feet and turned around. Everyone stood up and applauded him, except one person. Captain Grissom, standing to one side, saluted him.

"You are in for it tomorrow, Harry," Robert warned him at the celebration afterwards. "All the old matrons will finally want to talk to you, now that you are certified."

Harry paused. "What do you mean by certified?"

Lord Darcy, standing close to them, laughed. "We forget sometimes how little you know, My Lord Nephew. You must be a known member of the church in order to be vested in your rank. Father Maurice gave you a dispensation but that was only because you had asked to be baptized formally."

Harry looked around to make sure no one who did not know his origins was close. No servants were near, and Captain Grissom was across the room taking with the Duke of Cambridge. "My Lord Uncle, I don't," he paused suddenly. In his anxiousness, he had forgotten proper grammar. "I do not know if you are familiar with Robert's housemate, Ernie."

Lord Darcy smiled. "I assume you mean the Baron of MontClaire. The Archbishop mentioned him. He was mildly surprised at the request by his parents until he learned about his relationship with you. He baptized the entire family in a private ceremony. They gave him the impression they were converting Jews."

Lord Darcy smiled at Harry in such a way as to show there was more to the situation than he was letting on, but he said nothing else except, "I did make it a point to see them off as they left for New England. It was convenient as my ship arrived at Dover some hours before their ship left. The parents were gratefully surprised to see a friendly face, and one who knew their son."

"That was a surprising coincidence," Lord Robert said in a flat voice.

"Yes, it was, Nephew." Lord Darcy had answered in the same tone.

* * *

Lieutenant Lord Henry Somerset stood with his fellow officer-trainees from the Hermes. They were in the audience chamber as their fellow officer, Ben Farley, became Lieutenant Sir Benjamin Farley. Everyone stood patiently by until the King's Messenger entered the chamber and announced the King.

His August Majesty, John IV, entered wearing the uniform of Commander in Chief of the Imperial Army and Navy. As required, all officers present saluted while everyone else bowed lightly. As Lord Darcy had explained in preparing Harry for this meeting, when his Majesty dressed in Uniform he was an officer, although of an exalted rank. He would therefore be treated appropriately. Had he appeared in Royal Robes or even common dress, then everyone, regardless of station, would genuflect, and remain kneeling until ordered to rise.

The ceremony was simple. Each man to be honored would be called forward. His Majesty would personally give him a ring, placing it on his finger, to mark his rank as a Knight in the Order of the Chevalier. Then each man would step back into place. There were only four men presented to the King at this time, and Ben was the youngest of them. He was also the only one treated differently. After giving Ben the ring, His Majesty then placed his hand on the boy's shoulder and congratulated him. In less than a half hour, the entire ceremony was over, and His Majesty departed.

As Harry made his way from the chamber to where he was supposed to meet Sir Benjamin, he was stopped by one of the Royal Guards. "Lieutenant, I must ask you to wait here." It was phrased politely but it was obviously an order. Harry looked over to Nathan Brennan, who gave him a curious look and a wry smile. Harry nodded, to let him know he would join them as soon as he could.

Harry waited until the hall was empty. Even the guards had left. Then the door His Majesty had used to exit the room opened once more. The King's Messenger appeared. "Lieutenant Somerset, you will attend the King." He stepped to one side to show that Harry was supposed to go through the door.

"Your Majesty," Harry said as politely as he could, giving a proper salute.

"We will have none of that," His Majesty said, and ordered Harry to the one empty chair at the round table He was sitting at. Harry briefly glanced around at the other six people and only recognized two of them. The Lord High Admiral and Lord Darcy.

"Harry Potter," His Majesty said with contempt. "We do not like that name. You are never to use it in our presence, in any correspondence or in any way. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Do you understand why?"

"Because you wish it, Your Majesty?" Harry knew he gave the wrong answer.

"You are forgiven such an answer only once. Do you understand why?"

Harry paused, knowing from the look he was given that saying no would also be unacceptable. "I would venture, Your Majesty, that using my former name would remind others of my past and that I once led a different life."

"That was a better answer, and close enough. You are a creation. We have spent a great deal of energy in a very short period of time to accommodate you in our world. We thought we would have need for you as a link to your old world. And we are correct."

John IV looked down at the boy sitting at the table and smiled, but it was not a friendly smile. "Why do you wish to stay here and leave your friends?"

"To be with my brothers." Harry's answer was simple and honest.

The Lord High Admiral spoke. "If you wish to be close to your family, then why have you retained your commission? Remaining in the service will take you away from your brothers and your friends."

"Never grow up," Captain Grissom said clearly into Harry's ear, even though Harry knew he was not in the room. Harry also heard the sound of a body hitting the water.

Harry looked up at the Admiral with a firmness in his eyes. "The paramount duty of any officer is to obey all orders given to him without question. He may think for himself only when given permission. In all cases . . ."

The Admiral held his hand up to stop him. "I know all the rhetoric of the training manual. That does not answer the question, Boy. You are not here for amusement. You are here because we must know how you think."

"We may have already made one mistake in dealing with your world," another man said. "It was upon my advice that Lord Robert's friend was given a title out of courtesy, and now he has run off with his family as though being a Lord of the Realm were a great game. We need to understand you, so that we do not make any further errors. You have been told already that this situation is delicate."

Harry understood something. He had been given the clues and suddenly his mind reached the obvious conclusion. He looked at his uncle, Lord Darcy, who smiled at him as to say that he was correct.

"Ernie isn't going back," Harry said, then realized he had spoken out loud. He saw a rebuke coming for his lack of decorum, but His Majesty raised his hand slightly and the man sat back and said nothing.

"We would like to know, Lieutenant. Why isn't Ernie going back?"

"It's his dad. Ernie told me how he reacted to everything. And when I met Mister MacMillan he seemed anxious. He was worried about something. I think he was worried about what had happened at the school. About who was involved."

"You are referring to Voldemort. The man who gave you that scar."

Harry instinctively touched his forehead. His Majesty clearly knew more about Harry's life and his world than he cared to admit. Harry nodded.

"He's trying to come back. A lot of people, like Ernie's parents, remember how it was the last time. I think Mister MacMillan is scared. When you made Ernie a Baron, it gave him a way out."

"You mean his father is running away?"

Harry didn't want to say it but that seemed to be what was happening. "You have to understand. He was Ernie's age when the troubles began last time. Things were still going badly when Ernie was born. He . . ."

"With all due respect, your Majesty." Lord Darcy's smile had faded from his lips. "Goodman MacMillan is trying to protect his family. He fears what the future may bring in his own world. So much so that he is willing to give up the life that he has known so that his children may have some kind of future. He may be afraid, but it is not for himself."

His Majesty nodded and turned to the man on his right. "Send Professor Quirrell's request as an offer, for Goodman MacMillan's eyes only." He turned back to Harry. "Are you running away, Lieutenant? Your situation is similar, but you have no family to protect."

Harry involuntarily made a quick but complicated hand movement. It was obvious to everyone that he did not even realize what he had done. John IV gave a nod of his head.

Protocol required that no one may leave the room until the King has left. John IV stood up and walked out by a side door. Everyone else then walked out the door to the audience chamber. Then His Majesty reentered the room, empty except for Harry. He sat down next to the boy, and put his own hand on the hand that Harry had used to make the gesture.

"Master Sean O'Lochlainn is an excellent teacher, Harry."

Harry startled at the use of his name. "Your Majesty?"

"We are alone, Harry. You may call me Uncle?" The look his Majesty received caused him to laugh. "It is a courtesy, Nephew, because of my age. Did you not know? I am related to you in much the same way as Lord Darcy."

"How?" was all Harry could ask.

John IV laughed again. "I will order Lord Bontriomphe to sit you down and give you a complete genealogy of your family. Do you know anything about your lineage?"

"I was told, Your Majesty . . ."

"Uncle."

"I was told, Uncle, how I was related to the Duke of Cambridge."

"Well, his brother, your grandfather, married my aunt Caroline."

Harry stared in surprise. "We're actually related?"

"We are." His Majesty smiled. "I see you did not know how high your family reached. If you are curious, your Great Grandfather was my Grandfather, Henry VIII. Your name is a common one in our family. And the blood of the oldest ruling family in Europe runs through your veins. That is why I have done so much for you, Harry. And that is why I need to understand who you are."

In that one second, Harry was bought back to the subject in question. Why did he want to stay an officer? But he wasn't being asked by a council of lords, he was being asked by . . . an uncle. His hand began to make the gesture again, but the King's hand stopped him, and Harry realized what he had done.

"It was Tom Riddle. I knew I could defeat him if he attacked me. I provoked him. And having made him defenseless, I killed him."

John IV nodded. "It was what you had to do. You had to kill him or else he would have killed your friend's sister. You do understand that?"

Harry nodded. "Dumbledore told me the same thing."

"But that does not solve the problem, does it? You still have to live with the fact that you deliberately took another life. Without remorse and without hope for redemption. Does that describe how you feel?"

Harry gave an ironic smile. "It is close. I have never had much hope for redemption."

The uncle and nephew both laughed at the jest.

"Harry, that is why you want to remain an officer. It justifies what you did." His Majesty gave Harry a look of understanding. "You acted exactly as an officer is expected to act." Harry was watching him closely. "There are times when you must make a choice." John IV had an unfocused look in his eyes as he reflected on a memory. "There are times when you must choose how you will be damned by God."

John IV held Harry in a hug as though it was the most natural thing in the world. For Harry, it was the first time he could remember anyone holding him. But he understood. The euphemisms he had heard so many times now had meaning: Damned if you do, damned if you don't; The lesser of two evils; Devil take the hindmost.

"Thank you, Uncle," Harry said, as he was released. The spoken words had no real effect on him, but the tone of those words did. His uncle did understand what Harry was feeling, and he let Harry know he was not alone. That was more valuable than a hundred speeches.

"Harry," His Majesty said softly, "you have another appointment, and I have kept you from it. I must now give you an excuse to give to your friends, but first I must tell you something."

Harry knew he was referring to the celebration party. He was more than politely late. But His Majesty The King was still talking to him, even under the social term of Uncle.

John IV made sure he had Harry's attention. "It is important to Us that you return to the Hogwarts School when the next term begins. We have placed people in that world to help you as need be. You have until the end of this month to decide if you will retain your commission. If you choose to do so, every effort will be made to accommodate your situation, but you will have little free time as a result. Also, when you return to the school, you will not wear your uniform unless specifically told to do so."

Harry stood up. "I understand, Your Majesty, and I will obey your orders." He saluted.

His Majesty smiled at his seriousness. "Harry, I should tell you. This may be the only time I can ever talk to you on such a personal level. You need to understand that, while you have the duties that you have agreed to, I also have mine. Above all else, I must first be King."

Harry nodded. "Duty defines us." His uncle nodded in return. Harry had the right of it. Then John IV opened the door he had entered by and sent a call for the Prince of Britain. Shortly a blond boy, at sixteen a younger version of his father, walked into the room.

"Arthur, you have your wish. This is Harry."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Cousin," the Prince said as he bowed politely.

Harry returned the bow. "The pleasure is mine, Your . . ." John IV wagged his finger. ". . . Cousin."

Arthur put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "My duty is to escort you to a celebration, and perhaps linger?" His father nodded. "But I must insist that you tell me of your adventures aboard the Hermes."

A real smile came to Harry's lips. Partly because of the interest the Prince was expressing, but also because the dread visions he usually had did not come. "I am a poor story teller, and I will leave too much out. If you were to ask Lieutenant Brennan he would do it better justice. He had me enthralled when I heard him tell about it."

"Then you must introduce us, Harry." And the prince escorted him from the room. They stopped briefly in the audience chamber to inform the men there that they could reenter the conference room.

* * *

Nathan Brennan, wearing the uniform of a Bosun's Mate, had improved on his story, adding to it from what others had told him. That Prince Arthur of Britain was listening was an added stress and yet a compliment to his abilities. He blushed appropriately at the applause he received when he was finished.

The Prince of Britain was open and friendly to the half dozen youngsters, making it obvious that he was there because of his cousin. Then he laughed when he overheard Harry's remark to the newly knighted Ben Farley.

"Harry," the Prince said. "His Majesty did not give Sir Benjamin any special consideration. The ceremony today was exactly that. And it was performed exactly as it was supposed to be."

"But then why did he congratulate Ben, Sir Benjamin, but none of the others?"

"If you will forgive me, Your Highness," Sir Benjamin said. "Harry has the habit of not knowing the most common things but being very familiar with the obtuse." He turned to Harry. "Both my father and Grandfather earned the rank of Knight of the Chevalier. I am the third generation in a row to achieve that rank. Do you see?"

Harry said no, and received a combination of laughter and groans. The Prince of Britain took over the explanation. "It is simple, Cousin. A Knighthood as a rule is not hereditary."

"I know that."

"Yes, but if three succeeding generations achieve that rank, it is a Proof of Blood. The title does become hereditary. Sir Benjamin's sons will also be called Sir." When Harry nodded in understanding, Prince Arthur added to the explanation. "There is another important factor here. Sir Benjamin's name is now on what is known as the Title List. It happens that a title will fall vacant and His Majesty will need to appoint someone to take it up. If there is no convenient relative someone from the list is chosen. At worst, Sir Benjamin can expect his grandson to be a Lord. At best . . ."

"That's wonderful," Harry said, then frowned. He had shown poor grammar to the Prince. "Sorry."

"No apologies, Harry" Sir Benjamin said. "I am glad you are happy for me, even if you are on the list ahead of me. You are the younger son of a Lord, and you have shown promise."

Harry was curious. He turned to the Prince. "Cousin, is Robert on the list."

"He is not, Cousin. Being the son of a Lord is not enough to be put on the list. However, he is named heir to his Great Uncle, the Duke of Cambridge. He was notified this morning by the King's Messenger."

Harry sat back in his chair, amazed at what he had learned. This was an active feudal system. Even a common man could make his fortune and success was rewarded. Families would die out but new blood was always there to take the place of old, to help support the Empire. And that was the crux of the matter. That is why the Empire survived. Not because of what the King did, but what everyone else did. The Empire existed not because of what John IV could do, but what he could inspire his people to do.

* * *

The first day of July found two brothers saying goodbye at Dover. Robert walked with his escort down the long pier that Harry had traversed two months earlier. He stopped at the gangwalk leading to the HRMS Hermes.

"Seaman, call the officer on deck."

Davers looked down in surprise and called Captain Grissom, who looked down at the boy standing below.

"Sub-Lieutenant Lord Robert Somerset reporting for duty, Captain. I request permission to come aboard."

"Permission granted," Grissom called back and turned to a group out of Robert's line of sight. "That is how to do it properly."

As Robert boarded the ship, he was stopped and the Seaman, Davers, reached over and brushed the hair from his forehead. Robert grinned and announced. "I do get that a great deal. I am the one who takes better care of himself."

* * *

Harry stood on the deck of the HRMS Perseus, a mixed mast and engine Cutter used principally as a patrol ship. The Captain, Carlisle, was frowning at him.

"You have a reputation, Lord Henry Somerset, but I will use you as I see fit. You are assigned as Third Mate. You will assist the Third Lieutenant in his duties. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir," Harry said, and followed the Seaman who escorted him to his quarters, a slate bed in a three-tiered rack in a room small enough that two men would have difficulty standing up in at the same time. Here he would sleep, and that would be all. He stored his belongings in his cabinet and returned to the deck to find the Third Lieutenant.

"Third Mate Somerset, reporting, Sir." Harry saluted his immediate superior.

"They send me a babe," The Third Lieutenant, Neavly, sneered. "Why do I always get the new ones?" Neavly was only five foot five, although he was almost thirty. Harry's first impression was that, with his attitude, the Lieutenant could have fit very well into Slytherin. "What good are you?"

"Excuse me, Sir?"

"What do you know?"

Harry assumed that Neavly had heard about him, and was trying to downplay the hero status Harry had received from the newspapers. "I know the sextant, and the charts. I am familiar with the various parts of a ship, and with the basics of piloting."

"You have only had your training voyage?" Neavly was enjoying Harry's discomfort and the fact that he had a small audience. "Did you learn anything useful about sailing?"

"No, Sir," Harry answered with a grin, "but the Captain did show us how to take a prize without the benefit of weapons. Is that useful?"

Lieutenant Neavly bristled at the smart remark, but several of the Seaman listening to the exchange grinned their approval. Harry quickly realized that he would have a difficult time on board this ship, but he had learned to stand up for himself. Captain Grissom had taken the pains to teach him well and Harry tried to add honey to the vinegar.

"I fear you have the right of it, Sir. I had a turn of luck, and it has been taken for skill. I know very little of how to run a ship."

"Then you had better learn. I don't have time for ignorant whelps." The Lieutenant deliberately walked off without giving instructions. Harry understood that he could have said anything and it would not matter. He also knew that he was now standing without orders and with no idea of what to do.

"Do ye think that new mate will order us about," one of the seamen said too loudly.

"You mean having us tell him our duties?" another one replied.

Harry smiled as the men appeared to ignore him. "Seaman, what are your duties aboard this ship."

A man in his fifties turned to Harry and saluted. "Permission to speak, Sir."

"Granted," Harry said too quickly.

"You should start with young Compton, Sir. He is under the Second Mate."

Harry turned to the man in question. "Seaman Compton, I need to know your duties and how they are performed."

"Then you must come this way, Sir." Compton led him to the fore of the ship. "My duties are to maintain the sails when the engines are in use. That mostly entails the use of the Jib and Flying Jib which can be used to aid the rudder in turning should the wind be favourable . . ."

Harry quickly became used to the routine. He found he could sleep during the day because he was tired enough, and he was learning how a ship moved at night. His greatest happiness was that he had stayed awake during his astronomy lessons at Hogwarts, and that he thought to bring his book of star charts with him. Once Neavly realized he had enough knowledge to read the stars, it became his task to call off the bells. Despite an age where watches were becoming common, the Navy still marked time by the heavens. Noon was whenever the sun was highest, wherever the ship was, regardless of what time it was on a London clock.

Harry also learned about the ship. He had become, in effect, the Seamen's pet project. Although no one said anything, Harry understood that Lieutenant Neavly was as far from being the best liked officer on the ship as was possible. It was an insult to him every time that Harry showed he had learned something new. The biggest insult was when the Captain caught Harry, his shirt and jacket off, helping to raise the Mainsail. The Captain stormed towards him once he had returned to the deck and demanding an explanation, and Harry had already been coached in his answer.

"I am following my orders, Captain. Lieutenant Neavly instructed me to learn as much about this ship as possible. I have found that there are some things I can only learn by doing."

The Captain's anger lessened but his face did not soften. "And so you parade around half naked to be ordered by common seaman?"

"I ordered them to instruct me, Sir, with the full knowledge that their failure to teach me properly would be regretted by those who would serve under me in later years."

The Captain grinned and Harry let out a sigh of relief. "And what did you learn, Somerset?"

"I learned, Captain, exactly how difficult it is to raise a sail."

The Captain saluted Harry. "Carry on, Somerset. I will commend you to your superior."

As he walked away, one of the seamen commented. "I wonder if the third mate will want to learn how difficult it is to drink a flagon of rum?"

Harry's education was coming slowly. He knew the names of everything and could recite their uses but he still had very little practical skill. He had used his free time to learn as much as he could, but he knew it would take longer than this two month voyage to learn everything he needed to know. Still, he picked up the basics fast enough. He also ended his career aboard the Perseus much faster than he intended.

They were docked at a port along the French Mediterranean. All Harry knew was that it was not Marseilles. Harry was now two weeks into his thirteenth year, and he was once again on the night watch, as he had been every night. Neavly had command of the ship as the Captain and the senior officers had been called into town for a formal party. It was a standard affair and the Captain would return the following afternoon when the ship was to be resupplied.

Neavly turned to Harry with his usual sneer. "Somerset, do you think you can handle things for a FEW minutes."

"If need be, Sir."

"Good. You are officer on deck until I return." Harry saluted as his superior left. Neavly would return when he felt like it.

It was an hour later when four bells sounded from the dockmaster's station. In turn, the other three ships in dock also sounded four bells. "Sir," a seaman called, "should I sound the bell?"

Harry was puzzled. He had his sextant angling on the proper stars to determine the proper time. He checked his instrument then raised the sextant again. Mars had risen but was not where it was supposed to be. Saturn was also shy of its appointed spot.

"Should I sound the bell, Sir?" the seaman asked again.

"What?" Harry said, then recovered himself. "No, it is not yet time."

The seaman arched an eyebrow, but said nothing. Harry was getting nervous but every time he checked he came up with the same answer. The dockmaster had sounded his bell early. He reviewed everything he knew about the stars, their position this time of year, where the planets would be and their declinations at which times. After fifteen minutes he raised his sextant again. He felt like he was about to become the fool when he gave the order.

The call went out from the Perseus. Four Bells.

Twenty minutes later, someone called from the darkness of the dock for the officer on deck. When Harry appeared, the man repeated his request, while his two companions waited silently. Harry noted that one of them seemed very familiar.

"I am the officer on deck," Harry replied. "I must demand you announce yourself."

"Commodore Spinnet," the man said, no longer in a good mood. "I am here with the Dockmaster and your Captain." He marched up the gangwalk, and stood before Harry, who stepped back with no little fear and saluted. "Where is Lieutenant Neavly? I was told that he was in command."

Captain Carlisle was also livid. He turned to the nearest seaman. "Find Neavly and bring him here at once." He then turned to Harry. "Who ordered the sounding of the bell?"

"I did, Captain. Lieutenant Neavly had appointed me officer on deck and had not yet returned."

The Dockmaster paled when the Captain asked the next question. "You delayed in sounding the bell. Why?"

Harry looked at the Captain, whose look ordered him to answer. "My readings said that the Dockmaster sounded the bell too early, Sir." Harry stopped. He had just implied the Dockmaster acted incompetently.

"Why did you not consult with your superior officer?"

"He was not here, Sir. He had removed himself from the deck and left me in charge. It was . . ."

Neavly appeared suddenly, and all conversation stopped. The Captain looked at the Seaman and asked a simple question in a threatening tone. "What was his state when you found him?"

Neavly, to his credit, answered the question. "I was asleep, Captain."

"You are confined to quarters until further notice, Lieutenant."

Neavly saluted and left. For the first time since Harry had known the man, Neavly had shown dignity in his actions, but it was the honor of the fallen.

"Captain," the Commodore said, and nodded toward Harry.

"Third Mate," the Captain said forcefully. "You are relived of your duties. You may gather your belongings, and leave with the Commodore."

* * *

Harry sat in his room for three days, until the Perseus had departed. It was only then that he was summoned to his hearing. He entered the room to see Commodore Spinnet sitting at the table with another Commodore, and an Admiral between them. Only the Admiral spoke.

"Do not worry too much, Lieutenant Somerset. I do not usually sit on such a tribunal but I happened to be here and I wanted to meet you. Please sit down." Harry sat in the appointed chair. "You are not in trouble as such. The greatest problem was the misunderstanding of your rank. For the record you are a Lieutenant of Rank and therefore you are permitted to take command of the deck even though a superior officer is on board. Your removal from the ship was unjustified and that matter has been corrected." He gave Harry a wry smile. "Sorry about that."

Harry permitted himself to grin in response. "Permission to speak, Sir." The Admiral nodded. "Lieutenant Neavly was obviously aware of my rank. Why was no one else?"

"Goodman Neavly did not know. If he did know, he would still be in His Royal Majesty's Navy instead of His Royal Majesty's Brig. He ignored orders to his own peril. He is no longer a matter before this court. Instead we will discuss the matter of the sounding of the bell. Do you contend that you sounded the bell at the right time?"

"I ordered the bell to be sounded at the time I determined it should be. I do not know if it was in fact the right time."

The Admiral smiled. "You will make an excellent diplomat if you keep talking like that. The point of fact is that you did order the bell to be sounded correctly, causing the Dockmaster to pay the Quartermaster a princely sum of ten shillings, and for both of them to pay this court the princely fine of fifty pounds for failure to follow proper procedures. It seems they had a wager. The bell was deliberately sounded early. You are free to go."

"Um, Where, Sir?"

The Admiral smiled, "Home, I suppose. To await further orders."

* * *

Harry was sitting in his bedroom looking out of the window at the skyline of London, a vastly different London from the one he knew. There was a knock on the door, and Roger entered.

"I came to disturb you," Roger said. "You are not the first one in this family to cause a major embarrassment."

"Smirking at me does not make me feel better," Harry said.

Roger walked closer to him. "Father once told me that I needed to know who I was before I knew what I could do. Lord Bontriomphe says that is what you need as well." His tone suddenly became formal. "I need you to attend me."

"I am not in the mood, Roger."

"I want you to come with me," Roger said, and Harry turned away, annoyed. Roger walked up to him and grabbed his hand. "You are required to attend the Marquis of London. It is my decision that you do this."

Harry kept from smirking. Roger may have some idea on how to cheer him up, but it was probably their legal guardian, Lord Bontriomphe, who coached him on what words to use.

Roger led Harry by the hand without saying a word. They walked out of the room down the hall to the main stairway and went down the steps until they were standing in the entrance hall. Roger stopped there but kept holding Harry's hand. He pointed to the large portrait opposite the foyer.

"This is Lord Roger de Somerset, First Marquis of London in the line of Somerset. I was named after him. In the year 1363, he aided His Majesty in winning . . ."

Roger led him to every portrait in the house and told him who that person was, how they were related and what their accomplishments were. The entire time, he held on to Harry's hand. As he talked, Harry began to understand. Roger was holding him in place.


	19. Summer's End

PART IV: AT SCHOOL

Chapter Nineteen: Summer's End

Robert spent three days at sea as part of his training. He then spent a week in Dover with two of his fellow trainees. After that he reported for his review, and his assignment. He ended up on the Hermes as the clerk to the Chief Petty Officer. He soon found out, however, that the Chief Petty Officer did not need a clerk. Captain Grissom had been given an interesting assignment and Robert was to be a part of it. Robert was to be thought of as a fellow trainee, to challenge them to try harder.

The Hermes set sail for its next training run with six new victims. The youngest was perhaps eleven but the oldest was no more than fourteen. Robert was given the duty of scaring them. He did this in an admirable fashion. One by one, he would corner a new boy with a dare, and see how they would react. He challenged one boy to a race up the rigging. The boy made it half way up and froze. Two seamen had to climb up and carry him down. No one knew he was afraid of heights.

Robert confronted the boy afterward. "The secret is not to look down. Do you know that?"

"But you were looking down." The boy seemed to still be afraid.

"I was only looking," Robert said. "There is a trick to it. You do not stare. That is why you froze. Unless you are particularly looking at one thing, keep your eyes moving. That is why you froze. You should try it again."

But the boy didn't. Robert knew the boy would not remain, and it was his fault. The next day, it happened again. The eleven-year-old froze. The Captain was almost laughing, about having two in one trip, except it was not a joking matter. Grissom explained later that this problem came up about once every other month.

Robert decided to try again, and received permission. He climbed the rigging but from the underside, which meant using only his hands. Then he came face to face with the younger boy.

"Can you open your eyes?" The boy did so, but with surprise to find Robert looking at him from the other side of the ropes.

"Do you have a name?"

The boy nodded. "Derek."

"Look, I have tried this once before, trying to talk to someone but it does not work. I told him if it makes you nervous you should not look down, and you should try to feel the roll of the ship. It makes the climb easier." The boy nodded fearfully, and something inspired Robert to yell. "NOW GET MOVING, DEREK, OR I WILL KICK YOU OFF THE ROPES."

The boy moved. He kept climbing until he reached the topgallant where Robert was already waiting. "Do you see that?" Robert asked conversationally. "That is the tip of Cornwall. You can see it more clearly from up here." The boy nodded.

Robert watched him and understood what Harry had said about being a natural sailor. This boy was not. "You should relax, but keep a good hold on the ropes. If you pay attention to how the ship rolls you can actually climb faster and with less energy." Robert kept talking about the feel of the ship, then started pointing out the various ropes and what they did. (In some cases what he thought they did.) That was when Robert understood what his task was. His duty was not to help weed out the ones who were worthless. They would weed themselves out. He was to help the borderline cases, those who could fall either way.

Over an hour later, both boys were still up there. Robert was explaining everything he knew and the boy was asking questions. Then Robert had him climb down behind him. In a move reminiscent of an earlier voyage, a Seaman handed the boy his boots. He would become an officer.

Three days a week, Robert would help train a new group of young officers. Three days a week he would be trained, wether in a classroom or touring one of the other ships in the dock to let him know first hand the difference between the various mixed run (both sails and engines) vessels. He even spent three days going over every part of a dreadnaught that was in drydock.

Nor were his days on board ship always easy. On one occasion, a trainee decided to try the ropes in his spare time. Robert was closest and grabbed his foot as the boy slipped. Someone grabbed him and kept both of them from going over the side. On another occasion, rough weather sent a boy sprawling. Robert was the one to catch him, and curse him for not listening to the instructions on lashing himself to the deck.

It was an easy duty overall, but Robert was learning more about why things were done that way while helping others learn the way things were done.

It was the next to last trip that Robert would make when Captain Grissom gave him specific instructions. He was to choose the most promising lad in the new group. He was to pick his replacement. Robert looked at the latest group. "What is Derek doing?"

Captain Grissom rubbed his chin. "We will find out. DAVERS, send a message ashore before we cast off."

* * *

Sub-Lieutenant Robert Somerset was waiting for his replacement to arrive when he spotted himself. "Harry? You are not due for another week?"

"I have been excused from further service," Harry called back, "because of my devotion to duty."

"In God's Good Name, Harry. What did you do?" Captain Grissom shouted as he came to the side.

Harry tried to stand proud, "I rang four bells at the correct time, Captain, simply by reading the stars."

"And?"

"Well . . ."

A black-haired boy almost a head shorter than Harry walked up as the conversation went on and stared at Harry, then at Robert. He noticed the Captain, and saluted, but instead of asking to come aboard he asked to listen to the rest of the conversation.

* * *

Davers was talking to the other Seamen about their former trainee. "Three different ships, the officers were publically rebuked, the Dockmaster lost half a year's pay, and that Lieutenant he was assigned to is spending the next two years in private quarters."

"Excuse me, Sir" one of the trainees asked. "What did he do?"

"He sounded the bell."

"No, he did not," another Seaman said. "He gave the order to sound the bell."

"Is that important?" The trainee asked.

Davers shook his head. "No, not at all. But there is one thing that is very important."

"Yes, Sir?"

"You do not call a Seaman Sir. A Seaman, like I am, calls you Sir or Lieutenant and nothing else. Do you understand, laddie?"

"Yes, Sir," the boy said.

Davers looked up into the sky. "I love the new ones."

* * *

Captain Sir Mortimer Sheffield waited patiently at the train station for his charges to appear. At the scheduled time, twin boys disembarked, dressed in identical uniforms. Captain Sheffield looked with amusement at the boy with the longer hair.

"Did you seize a ship of your own, Lieutenant?"

Robert grinned. "Yes, but it was one of ours. I was told that it did not count."

Captain Sheffield looked up at the sky. "And I prayed to you Lord to give me a son. I now thank you for three daughters." He turned back to Robert. "I should admit that I know the reason."

Robert shrugged his shoulders. "There is the reason, and the reason given, Captain. The reason is that Someone wants us to be equal in rank because it is convenient, and the reason given is that I saved a life on at least two occasions. I appreciate the promotion but I wish that I had earned it."

"I fully understand, Lord Robert. Saving a life is not important enough."

Robert took exception to the remark. "It was not as though either of them was in any real danger. They were only trainees anyway. One boy was in no danger at all, except starving to death because he could not get himself untangled from the ropes."

Captain Sir Mortimer Sheffield leaned forward, his hands on his knees so that he could look Lieutenant Lord Robert Somerset directly in the eye. "One of those mere trainees was the nephew of the Master at Arms of one of my barracks. He is the reason I am here, and the reason I know about your promotion. Your brother may have influenced the choice of reward but you did earn it. If you disagree, I will arrange to have it revoked."

Robert was cowed. "But these things always happen."

"And they are always rewarded." Captain Sheffield paused. "As I said, your brother was clearly an influence, but your actions were your own. Appreciate your good fortune, and prove it was deserved."

Harry laughed at his brother's embarrassment. "Look on the bright side. It will not make any difference for the next ten months."

"Ahh," Captain Sheffield said, "Reason number two. It will matter. You may not be able to serve on a ship but you can still be trained. Arrangements have been made so that you will receive instruction during the course of the school year. I have been directed to make sure that both of you take your uniforms with you."

Harry remembered a conversation where he was promised that he would have no time to himself if he chose his present course. "Be careful what you wish for," he said to himself.

"Captain, are you here to escort us to the Institute?" both boys asked.

"It is scary," Captain Sheffield admitted, "when the two of you do that. The answer is yes but we must wait for one more arrival." He nodded at the incoming train.

Twenty minutes later, three boys were riding with the Captain to the compound of Kings College. All three were in uniforms, but the third boy was in the uniform of a student at Saint Cathal's Academy.

"We will miss you," Robert said.

"I thought it was a lark," Ernie MacMillan admitted. "Dad kept pushing us about how great everything was, and Mom kept smiling. Then we landed in New England." He looked down at the floor. "Robert, Harry, it isn't my choice. It is not my choice. I have to stay. Mom and Dad are afraid. I could see that. The way they would look at me and my brother and . . . We have to give up magic . . ." He paused, and then continued as though he had rehearsed the line, ". . . but it will be better for all of us."

Captain Sheffield was the one to speak. "That is the problem with duty. You have a responsibility, and the more you think on it, the more you realize how great it is. You have your vassals to think about. They will count on you for good judgement. Your superiors will rely on you to do your share to keep order and promote the general welfare. You have made a difficult choice, My Lord Baron. You have given up your freedom."

"Ernie," Robert commented. "Tell Owen I said hi."

Ernie smiled at the quick change of subject. "I will. Robert, I don't" (contractions, Captain Sheffield reminded him) "do not want to embarrass myself by asking, but what is Owen's rank?"

Robert smiled in a way that caught Harry's attention. "Owen does not have a rank. His father is O'Connell."

Harry smiled. "Half of us in this coach do not understand what you said."

Robert returned the smile. "The short of it is this. Owen's father is one of the three Lords of Ulster. Historically, they do not hold any rank. They are called by their family name. Owen's father is called O'Connell. He is known as the Lord of TyrConnell which is the name of his chief Castle."

"And why is that?" Harry asked.

Robert smiled again. "For Christmas, I will give you a history book."

* * *

In 1624, Ano Domini, King John Plantagenet, Second of that Name, entered Ireland at the head of a vast army to conquer the rebels once and for all. His strategy was twofold. He would subjugate each county and area at a time, then raise up a leader who would guarantee loyalty to the crown in exchange for civil liberties. In the south and the west this was effective, but the north stood united against him.

John had only two advantages. He was a young king and untried. No one knew what to expect from him. Also, the rebellion was caused by the prejudicial actions of his father, Henry VII, who was such a poor monarch that there would not be another Henry to wear the crown for almost three hundred years.

John II also had two significant disadvantages. The Polish Empire was rising from the ashes of the collapsed Hunnish Khanates and was making demonstrations in the direction of the German States, which were reminding the Anglo-French Empire of treaty obligations. The second disadvantage were the united clans of Ulster. The three traditional enemies had joined together under a single banner, the Red Hand, and stood across the small valley from him, with an army equal his size and in a better defensive position. The reports claimed that the three chiefs fought as one man.

Owen Roe O'Naill was the commander by agreement. He had fought for the Empire for many years in the Grenada campaigns which stopped the Turkic's advances into Castile. Owen Roe O'Connell was second in command by the fact that he was eight months younger. The third chief, Owen Roe Maguire, was a horseman by nature and commanded the cavalry of the field. He too was a military man, and he knew how to use his horses with deadly efficiency.

John II had men of equal caliber in his army, and his soldiers were better trained, but that was not the point. He may very well have to go from this battle to another battle. The last king who tried doing that died at the hands of John's ancestor, William the First, at a place called Hastings. Instead, John raised the white flag to parlay.

By agreement, six men met in a pavilion hastily erected in the middle of the field: John II, the three Owen Roe's, the bishop of Dublin (who was traveling with the King), and a scribe.

They talked for four days. At the end the following agreement was reached: Ulster, in all its parts, was a loyal part of the Empire; All rights and privileges in Ulster were equal to those in England or France; Ulster also had the right to contest the King's law, by unanimous agreement of the three Lords of Ulster. (Fortunately, how such a contest would be decided has never needed to be determined. Ulster has never exercised this right.)

There was one more significant section. While Ulster would have its share of nobility, the principal nobles, the three Chiefs of Ulster, would have no titles except their clan title. The chief of the O'Connells would be known only as O'Connell. The same was true for O'Naill and Maguire. Also, as Lords of Ulster, they were under no obligation to bow to any man, including the king. The Monarch of the Anglo-French Empire is recognized in Ulster as the first among equals.

The immediate result was that John II was seen as retreating from Ireland after a humiliating tactical and political defeat. But time proved his wisdom. What he had done with this agreement was to set in motion the development of the Codes of Unification, the union of all the parts of the Empire under one common law. What was wrong in Paris was also wrong in York. The court systems could now be united, and standards be set for all the people to follow. In those four days, he had made the Empire into one nation. By the time of his death, John II was, de facto, the most powerful man in Europe. To let three men be permitted to stand in his presence was a small price to pay.

Also, the Irish Lords were true to their word. When the Poles advanced into Saxony the following May, three Irish regiments where there to give aid. Ulster remains always the heart for the defense of the Empire.

One small result of this was that a thirteen-year-old boy was made an officer of rank because he yelled at the third son of The Maguire for not lashing himself to the deck. Maguire, upon hearing of the incident, demanded the boy be rewarded for his 'arrogance in the face of stupidity.' Maguire also refused to permit his third son to apply to the service to be an officer until he first earned the rank of Able Seaman. In short, the boy had to earn the rank from scratch. Lieutenant Lord Robert de Somerset would never know of this.

* * *

Harry and Robert looked up with interest. Instead of appearing at Hogwarts as expected, they were in an office with a man they recognized from the Daily Prophet, Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic.

"Well Done," the Minister chortled as they appeared. He smiled at the two boys. "I bet you're both excited to be going back to school in the modern world." He looked at Professor Quirrell. "I don't mean any insult to you by that, Professor, but it must be a change of pace for anyone from your world to come here."

Professor Quirrell gave his friendliest smile. "It is, Minister. There are so many things in your world that are only dreamed of in ours. Too many times our researchers return claiming they have come from the future."

Fudge beamed at the words, and Harry dared to ask a question. "Are many people coming here to study magic?"

Fudge smiled, happy to show off his knowledge. "They are studying more than magic. They're studying muggles as well. I don't mean to be rude but we've always said that everyone was better off with Magic being kept secret, and Professor Quirrell has proven us right. Even the average muggle has more to look forward to than the, um, other world." He noticed Quirrell's uncomfortable look and added. "We're more than happy to let them take advantage of us."

Quirrell seemed to recover his good humor. "It is a generous offer we are truly grateful for. We can advance our knowledge without making any of the mistakes ourselves." He frowned. "I fear for the time, however. There is a train to catch within the hour"

"No need to worry," Fudge said as he called for his aide, "We have a car waiting for you and the boys. You'll be at Kings Cross Station with half an hour to spare."

Quirrell forced a laugh. "I still forget how quickly you can travel in this world. I may never get used to it."

"Always happy to be of service," Cornelius Fudge said, and escorted them from his office.

As they were led to the waiting car, Robert asked a question of his own. "Professor, you said that there were MANY researchers in this world. How many researchers went to our world?"

"None," Quirrell answered. "We are not advanced enough for them. Why spend an hour over a cauldron when you can do the same thing with a flick of the wand. Instead, we are getting tourists. They claim to be researchers, but they are researching how people entertain themselves." He paused. "There are some. Dumbledore took his research to heart while he stayed with us. He even foreswore his wand to learn our methods of magic. He did well in the two science classes he sat in on. When he offered to take the practicals, we were quite surprised at his skill." Quirrell sighed. "But he is the rare egg."

"Are there no others?" Harry was as surprised at Robert that the information exchange would be so one-sided.

"There is a Doctor Pantely who is studying with the healers. When it comes to trying to learn about our world, they are the only two. There was also that man, MacMillan, but you know about him."

Harry and Robert nodded. "We met Ernie when we arrived in Cambridge."

Professor Quirrell smiled. "I love when the two of you do that. It reminds me that you are truly twins."

Both boys blushed.

* * *

"Harry." Hermione rushed forward and gave Robert a hug, a feat made difficult by the fact that she was holding a cat at the time. "I like the way you're wearing your hair. It doesn't stand out all over the place any more."

"It was Robert's idea," Robert said. "And in exchange I taught him how to develop a scar."

Hermione smirked as she realized her mistake. "Then I'll have to hug you again. Welcome back, Robert."

Harry was grinning as he said, "Hello, Hermione."

"Hi, Harry." She slid her free arm around Robert's arm and walked with him toward the partition to Platform 9 3/4. "How did you manage to win your rank? You must have done something wonderful."

"Harry," Ron called out, as he and the Weasleys came walking up to the platform.

Shortly he was surrounded by the entire family. Mrs. Weasley came up and made him spin around in place so she could admire his uniform. "You look like a young gentleman, Harry. And where is that brother of yours?"

Harry pointed to the partition. "Robert went ahead with Hermione. I think they like each other."

"Well, let's go meet him," Arthur Weasley insisted. "I have dozens of questions I want to ask him."

Fred leaned forward to whisper to Harry. "Dad found out that muggles and wizards live side by side in your world."

"Remind me to warn Robert," Harry said, as they both laughed.

"Come on, come on." Arthur Weasley insisted. "You don't want to miss the train."

"We've still got a half hour," Molly Weasley insisted but ushered everyone toward the partition anyway.

"Harry, I've got a new wand," Ron said proudly, showing it to his friend. "Dad got it for me after he won the lottery. And then we spent the entire holiday in Egypt visiting Bill." Ron pulled out a copy of the Daily Prophet which showed the entire Weasley clan, including Ron's rat Scabbers, standing in front of one of the Pyramids. "How was your holiday?"

"It was fun," Harry answered. "I spent six weeks sailing on the Mediterranean."

Ginny Weasley made a small noise and when Harry looked at her she blushed and said, "It sounds wonderful. What was it like?"

Harry gave her a wry smile. "I was on the night detail. It was too dark to see anything."

Mrs. Weasley gave a cry of outrage. "They made you work? How could they? Those people have no decency. The Daily Prophet was right. They are simply backward barbarians."

"That isn't fair, dear," Arthur counseled. "They simply aren't as advanced as we are. We'll teach them proper."

"It is not like that," Harry insisted strongly. "I have to learn, and I am learning how to run a ship by actually doing it."

"I didn't mean it like that, dear. But they made you stay up all night."

"I did get to sleep all day," Harry said defensively, but for some reason Mrs. Weasley's remarks hurt him. None of the people he met seemed backward or barbaric. If anything they seemed more civilized and educated that most people he met in this world. He walked through the partition without saying anything else.

"Don't mind Mum," George said as Harry came through to the platform. "The Daily Prophet has stories every day about that other world. They always point out how nobody can fly or apparate. They say it's because they mix with muggles all the time. It holds them back."

Harry nodded. "We had to appear in the Minister's office. He said almost the same thing. George, your mum has it wrong. They are not backward. They took a different path."

An official looking man walked up to them. "No loitering. All of you students, get your things on the train. Hurry up now."

As Harry helped the Weasley's with their trunks he asked George if he knew what was going on.

"It seems one of our evil wizards escaped from prison. Someone who is after you."

"You didn't know, Harry?" Ron asked.

"He was on a boat, Ron," Arthur Weasley reminded his son. He glanced at Molly who was lecturing Ginny, and whispered, "You can tell him all about it once you get settled."

With that, he rushed everyone aboard the train. The only adult to join them was Professor Quirrell, who had remained so silent during Harry's conversation with the Weasleys that he seemed to have disappeared.

Professor Quirrell saw the group of students to a compartment, and politely excused himself, taking the compartment next to them. They settled down, and Ron immediately asked, "How was it? Being on the boat, I mean."

"It was a ship," Harry said testily.

"Sorry. Dad keeps calling it a boat. What was it like?"

Harry paused. "It was a lot of work. And not all of it good."

"Harry was set under a lacker of an officer," Robert explained.

Hermione smirked at the word Robert used. "I assume a lacker is someone who lacks what it takes."

Boy boys shook their heads. Robert explained, "In a sense you are correct. A lacker is someone who acts as though what he is required to do is not his job. It refers to a lack of rank. The person in question does not have the authority to pass on the duty to someone else. Such people are usually harmless unless you are directly under them," Robert looked at his brother, "as Harry was."

"How bad was it?" Hermione asked.

"He had me do his duties when things were slow enough for me to handle it." Harry was half smirking. "On my last day he even made me officer on deck."

"That's supposed to be good, isn't it?" Ron asked.

Robert nodded. "Except that Harry was on board as Third Mate, not as an Officer of Rank. An unranked officer, a midshipman, may not command the deck if an Officer is on board the ship. Harry was supposed to refuse."

"And?" Hermione asked.

Harry smirked. "I was removed from the ship once the Captain found out, although I was cleared at my disciplinary hearing. It seems I am an Officer of Rank, on paper at least."

Harry told them the entire story, explaining how he is now an embarrassment to His Royal Majesty's Navy.

* * *

The Lord Seneschal stood before His Majesty, John IV. "They have returned, Your Majesty. Professor Quirrell is on board the train as well. He should be able to remove them if there are any problems."

"And Lord MontClaire?"

The Lord Seneschal looked bemused. "He is adapting well. He has an eagerness to prove himself. I must admit my thinking was faulty in my original suggestion but he seems of suitable character. His father has also forwarded his plans for his son's Barony."

John IV knew his chief advisor and friend very well. The idea of bestowing nobility on Lord Robert's friend was a good one on the surface. It was to show magnanimity to someone who had acted on behalf of the Empire. That was before the reality of the other world made itself known. That world was apparently more advanced in scientific research, to the point that even those with the slightest talent could perform spells. It also appeared that the 'muggles,' those without talent, had developed the physical sciences, which were considered useless in the Empire, to an advanced level. By comparison, the Anglo-French Empire was a backwater. Yet here was the crux of the matter. The parents of the Baron of MontClaire embraced the chance to live in the Empire, taking their children to a life that was difficult by comparison. And the father, as caretaker of the barony, was now asking the crown to approve his plans.

"Are they proof of genius or feeble attempts to curry favor?"

"Neither, Your Majesty. Goodman MacMillan has clearly done his homework. From books in his own world he knows what assets the barony holds, and he wishes to develop them. His plans are simple and direct. He wishes to exploit the maritime bounty that his son's fief has to offer. His greatest need is to build a port for trading ships once his fisheries are in order."

His Majesty nodded in surprise. There was no ulterior motive in the plans. Goodman MacMillan was taking his position seriously.

"Inform him that we will need estimates of cost before final approval. Also inform him that he should revise his plans for the port to account for a naval presence. His Majesty's ships make frequent visits to all ports of industry."

"As you command, Your Majesty."

* * *

"I call him Crookshanks," Hermione told Harry. "He's a wonderful cat."

"He's a pain," Ron responded rudely. "She only bought him because he attacked Scabbers."

"Crookshanks didn't know Scabbers was a friend," Hermione retorted.

"Right," Ron said. If nothing else, it explained why they were sitting on opposite sides of the compartment.


	20. Hogwarts Express

A/N: I was asked an interesting question. Does O'Connell's son bow to the King.

The general rule is when the King enters a room, everyone genuflects and remains that way until they are told to rise. The exception is if the King is in uniform. In that case, everyone bows deeply. Again, the exception is if someone is an officer. Then, that person would salute a superior officer.

The people who are exempt from these rules are: The King (obviously); The Royal Family (Mother, Wife, Children and their wives and children, Brothers and sisters who have not reached their majority); The Lords of Ulster, their wives and their heirs. As O'Connell's eldest son, Owen is his heir. He does not genuflect. He, and his father, would bow lightly, out of courtesy, the same way that common folk such as you and I would bow should we meet in public.

As a rule, a fiancé is not a spouse. However, if that person were in the company of her/his betrothed, that person would be treated as though they were already married. For example, The Prince of Britain is engaged. That woman would have the same rights and privileges as though she were already the Princess of Britain, while she was with the Prince. When they were not together she would be addressed according to her normal title.

As an aside, people do not shake hands in the Empire. That would be an insult, although grasping another's hand if there is a close personal connection is accepted. If the conditions were strongly emotional, such as meeting a relative or close friend after a long separation, it would not be uncommon to hug the other person, regardless of their sex. Henry and Robert hugged each other at an emotional moment, by the lake at Hogwarts. Had anyone at the school seen them they might have made a joke, but had this occurred on the streets of His Majesty's London any comment would have been a reference to good fortune.

Chapter Twenty: Hogwart's Express

The compartment was already crowded with two sets of twins as well as Ron, Ginny and Hermione. Fred stood in the doorway as he and George started to tell everyone what they knew about the escaped prisoner.

"First off, Dad promised Mum he wouldn't say anything to you, Harry, so he told us so we could tell you."

"And who is this escaped prisoner?"

"His name is Sirius Black," Fred told them, then stared as Robert and Harry both jumped. "What is it?"

"Uncle Remus told us about him," Harry explained. His voice was barely above a whisper.

Robert finished the explanation. "He was the one who betrayed our parents, in this world. He is the reason Harry is an orphan." He looked at Harry, who nodded. "What hurts the most is that he was the Best Man when our parents were married, and he is also Harry's Godfather."

"And he turned us over to Voldemort," Harry concluded bitterly.

George nodded. "And now he's back. Harry, that's why you ended up in the Minister's office."

"And that's why you're taking the Hogwarts Express," Fred added. "The Aurors are watching the train in hope that Black does make a try for you. "

"I don't think he will," George concluded. "There are too many people around. He won't try to sneak onto the train because he knows he can't."

"I am reassured," Harry said half-heartedly. "Do you know what happened when they caught him?"

From the looks on their faces, Fred and George knew, but they hadn't told Ron or Hermione. It was Fred who answered.

"He blew up an entire section of a city street, killing the wizard who found him. And about two dozen muggles."

"And he laughed when they took him away," Harry pointed out. "I doubt he will worry about too many people being around."

"And neither should you," a familiar voice said from behind Fred. Remus Lupin stood there, thin as ever but with a healthy glow about him.

"Uncle!" two boys shouted, then followed through with a boisterous reception. Fred and George used the moment to leave. They did have their own friends to see. Remus declined to stay, however.

"I am next door if you need me. I have to keep the new Defense teacher company."

"He's in the next compartment?" Hermione asked, and Remus nodded.

"I thought Professor Quirrell was in the next compartment," Harry said, then paused when he thought he understood. Remus nodded again.

"He is there as well," Remus said, "but I wanted to give you my good news." As the four watched him eagerly, he added, "I am now the groundskeeper at Hogwarts."

"But what about Hagrid?" Hermione asked before anyone could say anything.

Remus smiled. "Professor Hagrid . . ." he paused for effect, ". . . will be too busy teaching Care for Magical Creatures."

* * *

"There you are," Susan Bones said as she opened the compartment door. "I see you were too busy to come looking for me."

Harry smirked as he realized she was looking at Ron and not Robert. He glanced at Robert and saw him smirking as well.

"Sorry," Ron said without blushing. "We ran into Harry and Robert and . . ."

"You're forgiven," Susan said as she sat next to him. She then looked to Robert. "Where's Ernie? I thought he would be with you."

"He decided to stay," Robert said in what he hoped was a casual tone. "He likes being a lord."

Susan looked in surprise. "He stayed there? But he had to leave his wand here?"

Robert shrugged his shoulders. "He fell into the trap of nobility."

"And what does that mean?"

"Susan, he was made a peer. He went to investigate his barony. He agreed to be a baron. And now he has to be a baron. It is not something you can play at."

"I wish I had known he wasn't coming back." Susan shook her head slowly. "I was used to him. But that's Ernie for you. He never did anything by half."

"That is true," Robert admitted. "When he was convinced that Harry was the Heir of Slytherin he tried to convince everyone, including myself. But once he knew he was wrong, Ernie always took Harry's side, and argued effectively on his behalf."

"And he saved my life by finding Dumbledore," Harry added. He looked around the compartment. "He saved our lives."

Susan nodded. "Are there any more surprises I should know about?"

Robert paused. "Harry and I are both officers in His Royal Majesty's Navy. Our uncle, Remus Lupin is now the Groundskeeper, Hagrid is now a Professor, and the new Defense teacher is next door with Professor Quirrell, a sorcerer from my world. Did I miss anything, Harry?"

"I'm sorry I asked," Susan said with a laugh.

Robert smiled with her then noticed her hand. Ron was holding it. Something had happened over the summer. He would have to watch those two. He looked at Hermione and Ginny, who were laughing with Susan. Then he looked to Harry, who was sitting next to Ron. He was grinning as well.

Oblivious to all of this, Ron asked, "Harry, did you meet any of your family? You said you had a brother."

Harry couldn't help himself. "I did meet Roger, and I found out why your brothers can't stand you. Younger brothers are completely obnoxious."

Ron laughed. "Ask Roger what he really thinks about his older brothers."

"Ron, you will not believe this, but I met my mother's younger sister."

"You're joking? The Dursley's are there? Are they as bad as they are here?"

"Not at all. Because they aren't the Dursley's. And my Aunt, Lady Gwyneth, is older than Petunia by over a month. It was strange when I met their son. He has the same birthday as Dudley."

Hermione laughed. "Don't tell me his name is also Dudley?"

Harry and Robert shared identical grins, as Harry said, "Thomas Wyatt Dudley."

"That is priceless, Harry." She couldn't help but laugh. "What is Lord Dudley like?"

"He is not a lord," Robert explained. "Our Aunt Gwyneth married a knight, Captain Sir Walter Dudley of His Majesty's Guard. Cousin Thomas does not have a title."

"He was wonderful to meet," Harry admitted. "Thomas is everything Dudley is not. He made me feel welcome."

"Welcome?" Robert paused in thought. For a brief moment he felt apart from everything that had happened. A stray thought entered his head and refused to leave. "Harry," he said suddenly, "did you notice the strange thing that happened today?"

Harry proved to be his twin, and understood his tone immediately. "You are talking about the Minister. Why was that unusual? We appeared in his office so that he could be impressive." Harry paused. "Oh."

"Oh?" Hermione asked.

"Fudge likes to show off," Ron told her. "It's just like him to have Harry and Robert show up like that."

"Then why did Harry say 'OH'?"

Harry frowned. "Because the Minister for Magic was alone when we arrived. Why be pompous when the room is empty." He told them everything that had happened in the Minister's office.

Hermione grinned. "Isn't it obvious? You were with Professor Quirrell, who is from 'that backward world'. My guess is that he doesn't like having to cater to one of 'them'."

"THEM?" Robert asked in anger.

"Remember, dear brother," Harry said evenly, "We are backward barbarians."

"Harry," Ron said quickly. "Mum didn't mean it that way."

"But that is how we are portrayed. Isn't it, Hermione? Susan?"

Both girls nodded.

"We know it's wrong," Hermione said, "Your world took a different path. That doesn't make us better."

"Think about Ernie," Susan pointed out. "When given a choice, he chose your world."

Robert grinned. Susan was right. But the Minister's words had hurt.

Crookshanks chose this moment and jumped at Ron, and the pocket of his robe that held Scabbers.

"Hermione!" He shouted angrily as Harry and Ginny both grabbed for the cat.

Susan Bones understood at once, and made a helpful suggestion. "Ron, I'm sharing a compartment with Megan Jones and Wayne Hopkins. Wayne asked if I could drag you with me when I go back."

"Yeah," Ron said sullenly, with a scornful look at Hermione. "I would like that."

"Robert?" Susan asked. "Would you like to join us?"

"I think I will stay here," Robert said. Then he smirked. "After all, Three is a crowd." He grinned as Ron and Susan both gave embarrassed smiles.

Harry saw Hermione squeeze Robert's arm in appreciation. Ron was still upset, but he was no longer angry. Then Harry smirked. "Robert, would you like Ginny and I to leave. Four is also a crowd."

Harry pointed at Hermione's hand and everyone started laughing as she blushed furiously. She ended up laughing as well. As Ron began to leave, she called to him. "I promise. I'll teach Crookshanks to behave, or the cat will go."

Ron nodded in appreciation and left with Susan. He and Wayne Hopkins would probably talk about Quidditch for the rest of the trip.

* * *

Remus Lupin returned to his compartment just as the DADA Professor excused himself, making a small apology.

"How are they?" Professor Quirrell asked.

"They seem happy to be back," Remus said.

"We were worried," Gabriel Quirrell admitted. "Both were reluctant to return. I understand the attitude of My Lord Robert, but I was surprised at the feelings Lord Henry showed."

Remus smiled at the use of the titles. "Harry finally has a family. If I were in his place, I know I'd want to stay."

Gabriel nodded. "I must remember to call them Harry and Robert. And you are right about the boy. He did not want Lord London to be alone again. Both he and Robert know how hard it was for him the first time." Gabriel cleared his throat. "May I ask a personal question? How many people know about your, um, condition?"

Remus looked at the man in surprise. "How did you find out?" He then answered his own question. "It was Xavier."

Quirrell nodded. "Doctor Pantely was impressed by our healers. He dared to broach the subject. I was only told because of my relationship with the school."

Remus paused before answering. "Albus knows, of course. And the staff was informed in confidence, but none of the students know. Except for Ernie MacMillan, but I understand that he won't be returning."

"Would you object to one of our healers examining you? Doctor Pantely thinks that our methods may be effective in helping you. He has told us of his work to date. He also told me, personally, that he is looking for a permanent cure."

Emotions played across the face of Remus Lupin. The possibility of a cure was always his greatest hope. And Xavier thought that these people, whom the Daily Prophet constantly called backward, could be of help. His answer was a definite yes, and he had to smile. He understood that Professor Quirrell and the new DADA teacher did not need an escort. Remus was here so that they could talk privately, and set the groundwork before they arrived at the school.

* * *

The compartment door opened and Robert and Harry stared in surprise. They realized they were looking at the new Defense Professor. Master Forensic Sorcerer Sean O'Lochlainn.

"May I join you for a spell?" Master Sean asked. "My colleagues need to have a private discussion, and I am in the way."

"What is it about, Master Sean?" Harry asked.

"I do not know. It is private," Sean O'Lochlainn gave them a wide smile.

"You're Master Sean?" Hermione asked in surprise. "Please come in. Robert told me all about you. Are you the new Defense Professor?"

Hermione was enthralled by Master Sean and his willingness to answer any question she could think of. He even gave her a grin of approval when she asked if she could look in his sorcerer's bag.

Andrew looked up as the door to the dorm opened and Ernie walked in. "Did you manage to lose your way again?"

Ernie shared his grin. "I was told that since I liked the school so much I had to return. My parents insisted."

"Owen will be happy to hear that," Andrew acknowledged.

"I know," Ernie replied. "The house needs a good forward." Both boys laughed.

Draco Malfoy opened the compartment door. Appropriately, it started to rain at just that moment. "Look. A pair of Potty's and a Weasel."

Behind him, Crabbe and Goyle laughed, while Ginny blushed in furious anger. Robert stood up and faced the blond-haired boy.

"You are not amusing," he said and reached into his robe as though to draw his wand. "Why not duel, at the here and now? Or you could leave quietly?"

Draco looked at the one hand reaching inside the jacket and the other hand held up in readiness. "You're not worth it," he sneered, as though the past had never happened, and walked away with his friends.

Laughter followed him until Robert closed the compartment door.

"Thank you," Ginny said appreciatively. "I can't stand him."

"No one can," Robert answered. "Except the Slytherins."

"What curse were you going to use on him?" Ginny asked. "I'm just curious."

"None." Robert gave her a grin. "I left my wand at the school."

"What?" Hermione said in surprise. "The first thing they taught us is never to forget your wand."

"I did not forget my wand," Robert explained. "In our world, we have forbidden the use of wands. Any wizard who visits must leave his wand behind else they be tempted to, um, show off."

"But if you're not a wizard in your world, what are you?"

Robert pointed to the insignia on his jacket. "I am a Lieutenant."

Hermione was surprised. She looked at Harry who nodded in response. "But Ernie stayed in your world?"

"And left his wand with Dumbledore."

"Why?" Hermione thought furiously. "Harry, Robert, I don't care what it takes but I want to visit this world of yours."

"You are invited for Christmas," Harry offered.

"Roger will love you," Robert told her.

* * *

Someone actually knocked on the compartment door instead of just opening it. Robert being closest, slid the door open to find himself facing Cedric Diggory. "Please, Cedric, we have still to arrive at school. I refuse to have Quidditch practice this early."

Cedric laughed, and joined them as Robert sat back down. "We'll wait until after the sorting."

"I think Oliver Wood has the pitch reserved for that time," Harry offered, eliciting another laugh from Cedric.

"I have a serious question," Cedric said shortly. "I want to know about Ernie. Susan told me he stayed behind."

Robert shrugged his shoulders. "He wanted to come back but his family fell in love with the barony. He stayed so that they could stay."

Cedric frowned. "He stayed because of his family?"

"And the wealth and power that come with being Baron."

"But was it his choice? I was told that his father may have forced the issue."

Hermione was curious. "Why would he make Ernie stay?"

Cedric's frown deepened. "Do all of you understand that Ernie is wizard born?" Everyone nodded. "Do you know that both of his parents are also wizard born?"

"Wait," Robert said. "Ernie distinctly told me that he has a muggle cousin the same age."

The frown became a wry smile. "His father's first wife was a muggle."

"She was killed," Hermione guessed, and Cedric nodded. No one had to ask by whom.

"Mister MacMillan was always a bit skittish after that, my dad said."

It was Harry who said it. "Now his family is safe from Voldemort, should he succeed in returning."

Robert reached over and put his hand on Cedric's shoulder. "Lord MontClaire is staying because of his family, but it was his choice. He had to consider what was best for them."

Cedric was surprised to hear how Robert referred to Ernie, but he understood the reason. Ernie wasn't Ernie anymore. "I had to ask. I always liked him and . . . the train is slowing?"

Ginny looked out the window. "We're nowhere near the station, yet? I think I see some lights." As she wiped the window to try to see better, the lights on the train went out, leaving everyone in complete darkness.

"What is it?" Harry asked with a hint of nervousness.

"Get your wands out, just in case," Cedric said clearly.

"Our wands are at the school," Robert answered in the same tone that Harry used.

"Lumos," Cedric said and the tip of his wand began to glow. A gasp was heard from the doorway and everyone looked to see Neville Longbottom standing there. It was obvious he had been feeling his way along the wall. The light appeared as Neville was about to rest his hand on empty air instead of the compartment door he expected to be there. His gasp was relief at his close call.

"Can I join you?" he asked quickly. "At least until the lights come back on."

As Neville gratefully sat down, the sound of footsteps could be heard as people began boarding the train. There was also another sound that none of them recognized. Then it appeared. Robert later described it as a dark form that seemed to exude hopelessness.

Robert wasn't sure of what happened after that. He was frozen in fear, staring helplessly at the creature. Cedric was trying to cast some kind of spell but it wasn't working. Then Harry fell to the floor, shaking. As though it was a signal, the creature began to bend over his brother, and Robert forced himself to push it away. His hand froze when he touched it, and the hooded face turned toward him. That was when he heard the scream, but a feeling of apathy seemed to come over him. As the face came closer, he lost consciousness. His last thought was a mild amusement that the screams were coming from his own mouth.

Robert awoke in a bed. Someone was standing over him, a healer.

"Good, My Lord, you have awakened. I must ask you to eat this. I have been assured it will make you feel better."

Robert took the piece of chocolate and ate it. Relief and warmth seemed to fill him immediately. "What happened?"

The healer, a sister of the Order of Saint Gertrude, smiled warmly at him. "You attacked an abomination. You did not achieve victory over it but you stayed its course and saved the life of your brother."

"Harry?" Robert asked anxiously.

"One of the sisters is with him. He has already recovered. You took the worst of it upon yourself." She put her fingers on Robert's lips to prevent his next question. "There is more chocolate here, and I must insist that you eat all of it. After that you are to rest. You may ask all of your questions in the morning."

* * *

"Where's Robert?"

The healer handed Harry another piece of chocolate. "He fought the beast and took more harm than you, but he will recover."

"What was it?"

"That I do not know, My Lord, but your friends are waiting. I am certain that they will explain everything to you." She paused and looked sternly at Harry. "Lord Henry, you are ordered to stay in that bed until morning. I will permit guests to visit you for an hour, only if you promise to obey my orders."

"It is my duty to obey orders," Harry said cheerfully as he saluted.

The sister laughed at his gesture, then walked to the door of the small room and opened it. She stepped out and Hermione walked in. She was followed by Ginny and Cedric Diggory.

"Robert is fine," Harry and Hermione said together, and then laughed.

Hermione grabbed his hand. "Thank you for thinking of me. But how are you."

"I feel better now," Harry said, "but I don't know what happened. As soon as I saw that creature I heard someone scream, and then I blacked out. I vaguely remember falling on the floor."

"That's odd," Ginny said.

Hermione frowned. "Robert was the one who screamed, but you had already fallen by then."

"I think I can explain," Cedric said as he came up to the bed. "It was probably a memory. Dementors always bring out the worst memories that you have. It's as though they suck all of the happiness out of you, which is what they do."

"Is that what that thing was?" Harry asked. "A Dementor?"

Cedric nodded. "They are the guardians of the prison of Azkaban. My guess is that one was on the train in case they found Sirius Black."

Harry nodded but his face had a serious look. "What happened to Robert? Why did he scream?"

"It was lunging for you," Ginny gasped. A tear was in her eye from the painful memory. "Robert tried to push it out of the way." Hermione put her arm around Ginny to comfort her.

"Lupin and the others heard his scream," Cedric told him. "He was able to distract the dementor while Professor Quirrell took us to safety. We didn't know who was hurt, or how badly."

Harry smiled thinly as he looked at Hermione. "You have your wish."

Hermione returned his smile in kind. "Be careful what you wish for. You will surely get it."


	21. A Quick Visit

Chapter Twenty One: A Quick Visit

Harry gratefully dressed. He had a restful night despite what had happened but now he had to find out what the day had in store. The healer who had attended him led him from his room to a small common area where his friends were waiting. Cedric Diggory was smiling glumly.

"The food is good," he said, "but don't expect much variety."

Harry looked at the table. There were bread rolls and honey, but no butter. There was also oatmeal. And there was plenty of water to drink.

"It looks wonderful," Harry said, and sat down to eat. He was famished after his ordeal, and put a noticeable dent in the food. As he paused for breath he asked, "Why are all of you here? Why didn't they take you back?"

Neville Longbottom snorted as Cedric rolled his eyes. Hermione and Ginny gave bemused smiles. Cedric gave the answer.

"Because, Harry, there's no one to take us back. That Professor Quirrell brought us here and left. We don't even know where here is."

"We are south of London," Harry said. "It is a safe place because everyone here is sworn to a vow of silence. The sisters only talk when they are dealing with their patients and then only about the patient."

"This is a monastery?" Hermione asked, and Harry nodded. "I thought those disappeared in the middle ages."

"We are a backward people," Harry said cheerlessly. "If you do not believe me, read the Daily Prophet."

* * *

Cornelius Fudge was furious. "Albus, you must order them to return our students."

"Minister," Albus Dumbledore said as calmly as he could, "they have already asked if it is safe to do so. Please try to understand their position."

"THEIR POSITION? That Professor kidnaped six students."

"Six students who were being attacked by a dementor," Albus reminded him, "and two of those students are . . ."

Cornelius Fudge waved his hand to say he did not want to hear any more. "The students must be returned to the school." He added in a condescending tone, "You know how to deal with them. Just make sure they do it."

Albus nodded his agreement without answering. Fudge was not interested in knowing how. All he cared was that he got what he wanted. "I will send word to them immediately, letting them know that it is safe for the students to return."

Satisfied, the Minister said goodbye and left the school. Those backward people needed to learn their place. They didn't deserve any credit for one lucky discovery. If it weren't for the Potter boy, they would not even have bothered to use such a valuable find. Cornelius Fudge knew that it was only a matter of time before their sense of fairness made them share the discovery. Then he would show them how to use such a gift.

* * *

The brusque looking man entered the room where the Hogwarts students sat. He looked around, taking in each face with a glance. Harry stood up when their eyes met.

"My Lord Bontriomphe."

"Lord Henry, I am happy to see that you are well. I have visited your brother and he is recovering, but it has been decided that he should stay here until our return." He glanced down at the cat that was rubbing his leg. "Goodwoman Granger, I must ask that you keep your cat in check at all times."

Hermione nodded, surprised not so much that the man knew her name, but that he knew the cat was hers. She called to Crookshanks, who immediately returned to her and jumped on her lap.

"Thank you." Lord Bontriomphe looked at his pocket watch, then turned to Harry again. "Clothes are being brought for your friends, Lord Henry. Have them change quickly. We have an appointment within the hour, if possible. As it is, I anticipate a late arrival but I do not wish to be too late. Naval Intelligence wishes to debrief everyone as to the events of last night."

"Naval Intelligence?" Cedric asked, as though it was a joke.

"Robert and I are both listed as officers," Harry explained.

One of the Sisters came in and asked Hermione and Ginny to accompany her, while another Sister sat a pile of clothes on a vacant chair then left as well. Cedric and Neville stared in surprise.

"Harry," Neville asked. "Why do we need to change clothes?"

Lord Bontriomphe cleared his throat. "We need to travel in public. You will stand out otherwise. Please change quickly. I will return shortly, and you must be ready to leave."

Cedric took the set of clothes on top, looked at them and handed them to Neville.

"Why are they so paranoid?" Cedric asked, as he began to change."

"That is an easy question," Harry told him. "Two of His August Majesty's nephews were attacked by a creature that no one in the Empire has ever heard of."

"Nephews?" came the surprised response.

"In this world, my great grandfather on my mother's side was King. My uncle, King John IV, is very protective of his family."

Cedric and Neville both continued to stare until Harry prompted them to finish dressing.

* * *

His Majesty, John IV Plantagenet, sat looking out of the Tower window. The Somerset twins, and four friends from the other world were sitting a few hundred yards away in the office of the Chief of Naval Intelligence. His Majesty corrected himself. Robert Somerset was still at the Hospice with the Sisters of Saint Gertrude. The conspiracy of silence was extended by one dozen.

"My Lord." The Lord Seneschal had entered the room. "The party has arrived."

"I know," His Majesty answered. His voice became serious. "William. What was it?"

"John, they call it a dementor. Professor Quirrell described it as an abomination."

John looked at his old friend. "What would be an accurate description?"

"From what I have heard, the Professor has the right of it." William visibly shuddered as he remembered the vivid explanation of what happened. "The creature was trying to," he paused for the right word, "to devour Lord Henry's soul. Lord Robert tried to stop it, and received its full attention."

John frowned with anger and surprise. The thing must indeed have been a horror if that one word was the best description. He rose from his chair. There was a secret passage to a secret room. He would listen as the children retold the events of the previous night.

* * *

Hermione was the first one to be led into the conference room. Harry was already ensconced in his seat at the end of the table. Next to him was a priest who identified himself as Father Maurice. On the other side of the table was Lord Bontriomphe. The man in the center asked Hermione to sit. He told her he was Captain Smollett and he would ask her some routine questions.

Hermione first described the events on the train as accurately as she could. She was sitting next to Robert and had a full view of his actions. When asked to describe the dementors, she gave the textbook description of what was known about them as well as her own reactions. It was Father Maurice who seemed the most interested but he said almost nothing.

Forty-five minutes after the interview began, she was excused. As she left, Ginny was brought in and given her seat. Hermione smiled encouragingly, and went back to the waiting room where Cedric and Neville were.

"We were worried," Neville told her.

"They were thorough," Hermione admitted. She looked at the table set to the side and smiled. "I see they have real food here. Oatmeal is not my idea of a full breakfast." She grabbed a piece of fruit, then paused and looked around.

"Where's Crookshanks?"

"Somewhere in here," Cedric said in a bored voice.

"No, he isn't," Hermione said in annoyance. "He must have snuck out."

"Where are you going?" Cedric asked as she reversed her steps.

"To find him." Hermione thought that was obvious. She opened the door and stepped out to confront an Armsman.

"Do you need anything?" he asked firmly.

"Um," Hermione said nervously. The last thing she wanted to do was explain about her cat.

The Armsman smiled, misunderstanding her nervousness. "Turn left at the end of the hall, then right at the next hall. The facilities will be on your right. Will you need an escort?"

"It seems simple enough. Thank you."

Hermione quickly walked to the end of the hallway and turned left. As soon as she was out of sight of the Armsman, she paused and looked around. There was plenty of noise from people working, but all of the doors were closed. She slowly walked forward, and halfway down she did spy a door that was not completely closed. Not a door, but a panel, a secret passage. She listened, and heard a mewing sound. She pushed the door open and slipped into the room, closing the panel behind her.

"I assume this is your cat," a voice said.

Hermione turned to see a tall blond man standing at the end of a hallway, Crookshanks lying on his left arm purring as the right hand rubbed the fur on the cat's back. She couldn't help notice that he was the best dressed person she had seen so far. She knew he must be a nobleman.

"I hope he didn't bother you, er, My Lord."

The man smiled kindly at her. "Not at all. He was a relief." He motioned for her to come into the room. "To tell you the truth, I had the unfortunate task of listening to your description of . . . It was quite disturbing."

Hermione followed his gaze and saw a chair near the far wall.

"It was not as disturbing as being there," Hermione said in a light tone which was ruined by an involuntary shudder as the memory recalled itself.

"Your name is Hermione?" the man asked.

"Yes, My Lord."

"We are in private. Please, call me John."

Hermione couldn't resist his smile, and nodded, giving him a grin of her own. He led her to a small table away from the far wall and asked her to sit. He sat down as well, carefully so as not to bother the cat, now nestled in the crook of his arm.

"If I may ask," John said. "I understand that you are a close friend of the Somerset family."

"You mean Harry and Robert? Sorry, Lord . . ."

"Harry and Robert will do fine. I was curious what you were like."

Hermione paused and became suddenly afraid. "Could I ask? Who are you?"

"Surely you must have guessed by now. But do not let that disturb you. Crookshanks was not disturbed. Not that he would be." John's smile became wide as he almost laughed. "After all, a cat may look at a King."

Crookshanks sensed the King's movement and jumped from his arm to the floor. His Majesty picked up a cup and an urn. "Would you like some tea, Hermione?"

Nervously, the girl made her lips move. "Yes, please."

"My nephews tell me that you are a brilliant student," John said calmly, as though he was an old friend of the family. "What do you think of our world?"

"What do I think?"

"Yes, you. After all, Harry came here and wanted to stay. Ernie came here and decided to stay. Yet we are such a backward world compared to yours. I understand, for example, you have horseless carriages which can travel much faster than a racing horse. And they are probably more comfortable than our coaches."

"We call them cars, and they are . . . faster," Hermione admitted. She felt she should say something positive about this world, and added, "but horses don't pollute the air as much. It smells a lot better here."

"Ah," John said, "Cars are faster than coaches, but they make the air smell bad. On the other hand, horses can also make the air smell bad. Does the smell linger long?"

"Well, there are a lot of cars around."

"Wizards do not use cars, though?"

"They have other ways to travel," Hermione acknowledged, happy for the change of direction of the conversation. "There are brooms, portkeys, floo powder, and the more advanced wizards can apparate."

"That sounds delightful." John said sincerely, and Hermione briefly forgot who it was she was talking to.

They talked for more than an hour. Hermione was thrilled to hear how the Empire was organized. She always thought of Feudalism as archaic, not as a living system of government. In turn, she kept His Majesty's attention by telling him about the world of magic and all of the amazing creatures that could be found. They both laughed heartedly when she finished telling him about Norbert, the baby dragon.

"Excuse me, Hermione," His Majesty said at one point. "The morning is almost gone. You should rejoin your friends." He pressed a button on the wall and a man entered the room.

"Escort Miss Granger to the room where her friends are waiting, and make the necessary apologizes, but do not mention Us." His Majesty turned to Hermione and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Can I rely on you to use your discretion? I do not wish to upset the Armsmen for your breach of security."

Hermione nodded and John IV excused himself. After he left by another door, she and the King's Messenger returned to the waiting room

"Where were you?" the Sergeant at Arms asked Hermione when she reappeared.

The King's Messenger spoke up. "Sergeant, I am here to vouch for the young lady. She was delayed by a member of my office. You should have been informed. It was an oversight."

The Sergeant nodded. "I will have to make note of this."

"That is expected," The King's Messenger said. He opened the door to the waiting room and ushered Hermione and Crookshanks inside. As he closed the door behind her he was heard to say, "You should also be careful. The cat likes to roam around. He was found in the one of the unoccupied rooms."

Ginny and Cedric were looking at Hermione when she returned. Ginny gave an audible sigh of relief.

"Where were you?" Ginny asked. "Guards were running around all over the place."

Hermione let Crookshanks jump to the floor and then sat down in one of the chairs. "I ran into . . . a relative of Harry's."

"What happened?"

"It was very strange. He poured me a cup of tea and asked me how I liked London. He also asked me if I would like to visit Robert over the Christmas holiday."

* * *

Lord Bontriomphe ushered everyone into the coach after the proceedings were done. As everyone settled in, he gave instructions to the driver and closed the speaking hatch in the front of the cab.

"I suppose all of you are eager to get back to your school," He said drily.

"I am," Neville offered. "I'm tired of sitting around in rooms." Cedric and Ginny echoed his remark.

"Perhaps you should have some exercise, first," Lord Bontriomphe suggested. "We could risk having you walking about the city but, if you wish, I was informed that you could walk around the conference center of a nearby hotel."

"My Lord Bontriomphe," Hermione said as a smile played about her lips. Crookshanks was sleeping beneath her legs in a cage. "You aren't very good at surprises, but I will ask. Why would we be interested in walking around a hotel?"

"The Sorcerer's Convention. It was suggested to me," he looked knowingly at Hermione, "that the five of you might find it of interest." As an afterthought, he added, "I would have suggested Saint James Park."

* * *

"What are these?" Hermione asked as she saw the array of wands.

The Sorcerer eyed her carefully. It was an unusual question from a girl her age. "You do not travel much? But you are well read?"

Hermione understood that she should have been more careful. "Books are easy to read, but they do not tell you everything."

"A pity," the sorcerer said as he gave Hermione a wand. "Here, point the wand at that child's block. Now concentrate on moving the block from where it is on your right side over to your left side."

Hermione followed his instructions and was delighted that the block moved easily. "That is wonderful," she told him. "I would love to know how you do that."

"If you had talent we could teach you," The Sorcerer said. He stopped Hermione as she went to return the wand. "I have a feeling about you, young miss, if I may be so forward. I assume you do not live in London, but will you be staying long?"

Hermione went to return the wand again but the sorcerer made no effort to take it. "I'm leaving today," she admitted, "after we leave here." The sorcerer's regret was apparent. She hesitated, then added, "But I may be coming back for Christmas. My friend invited me."

The sorcerer's face changed instantly. "That would be perfect. Let me explain. These wands are a new design but we need to know how well they hold up." He gave her his card. "If you agree, I will give you the wand (instead of charging you the Four Pounds Three and Six) and in exchange you will let me know how well the wand performs over time."

"You want me to test the wand? But I'll be at school."

"Better yet," the sorcerer said. "Let your friends play with it as well. We have found that the wands may react differently for different people." He saw the girl hesitate and added. "Please, as a favor."

Hermione laughed. The man sounded so pitiful when he said that last line. She took the card and looked at it. "I promise . . . Master Sorcerer Mercer."

"Thank You," the sorcerer said. "You do not know how hard it is to field test new items. If you will permit me, let me know where to call on you, and I will bring a Christmas Pudding that would feed His Majesty's Army."

They were both laughing as Harry walked up to them and said, "Hello, Hermione."

The sorcerer stared, and bowed politely. "Lord Somerset, I believe?"

"Henry Somerset, Master Sorcerer."

Sorcerer Mercer's face took on a genuine smile. "This is an honour, My Lord Lieutenant. Is this lady a close friend?"

"Only a friend," Harry said.

"A pleasure to meet you, My Lord, Lady. If you will excuse me." The Sorcerer went to help a couple and their small daughter. He cast a glance as Harry and Hermione left, hoping that his hunch was right. He was usually good at hunches. Then he quickly turned back to the couple as their daughter played with a wand. He explained how the spell would begin to fade after the first month and disappear completely by the end of the third month. Most children would lose interest by then, but if their daughter had talent she would still be able to use the wand without knowing that there was no longer a spell.

The couple thought briefly, then bought a wand. The clincher, the sales line that always worked was 'if she/he had talent'. Everyone hoped their child might prove to be special.

As Harry and Hermione walked away she had to ask. "What did he mean by a 'close' friend?"

"It was a polite way of asking if I was courting."

"Courting? But you're only thirteen."

"Families can start at a young age in this world," Harry explained. "Because I have means, I can wed at fourteen, when I will legally be an adult. Women only have to be thirteen. You are already old enough. Fifteen is not an uncommon age. By seventeen, most people are married. There are plenty of exceptions, but that is the way of it. It would not be unusual if we were romantically involved." He smiled but it did not help Hermione's discomfort, so he changed the subject.

"How did you manage to buy a wand?"

"It was a business deal," Hermione explained. "It's a new product, and I'm going to test it for him. In exchange, he's going to give me a Christmas pudding."

"That sounds fair," Harry said. "Would you like to join Neville and Ginny? Lord Bontriomphe gave them each Two Pounds. They are testing the out-of-season fruits stored in a preservator."

They looked toward the stalls but did not see their friends. Hermione nudged Harry and pointed toward the automatic clothes cleaner. (Just Walk Through. Soon To Be In Every Home.) Ginny had a large red stain, probably strawberry, and walked through the ensorcelled arch. Two steps later her blouse was spotless and the salesman asked her to let everyone see.

"I'll pass on the fruits," Hermione said with a laugh. "Where's Cedric?"

"He and Lord Bontriomphe are attending a public lecture on Magic in everyday life. Lord Bontriomphe suggested I get you away from the salesmen, just in case."

Hermione nodded. Just in case she said the wrong thing, as she almost had to Master Sorcerer Mercer. "What would you like to do?"

"Something I shouldn't," Harry said, "but we have time." They walked past the aerial viewer, which projected the downward view from two hundred feet above the building. After that they walked by the large crowd watching a presentation of the new, affordable light fixtures, where only the bulb need be ensorcelled. Then they were out of the hotel and Harry immediately hailed a cab, telling the driver, "London House." He refused to tell Hermione where they were going, saying she should be able to guess.

Twenty minutes later, the cab stopped at a large house surrounded by a garden. Harry helped Hermione down then gave the man a five pound coin. "Wait for us. If we are more than a half hour, please call us." Harry paused then added, "Goodman, may I have the servants bring you anything, perhaps some caffe."

"I wouldn't object, Sir," The man said happily. The note was more than fair pay for his time, but a free meal was indeed a bonus.

"This is your house?" Hermione guessed.

"Don't be silly," Harry told her. "This is the house of my brother, Lord London." He opened the front door for her, giving a friendly smirk to the housekeeper when she looked upset that he did not wait for her to open it.

"Charity, this is a friend of mine, Hermione Granger."

"A friend, My Lord?" Charity asked, in the same tone as the sorcerer.

"More of Robert than myself," Harry replied.

"Robert has better manners," Hermione retorted.

"But time is short," Harry told the housekeeper. "Is My Lord London in?"

"In his room, sulking, My Lord. You should be a nice surprise. If you can get him to stop."

"I will. And if you could see to the coachman, please."

Harry walked Hermione up the staircase and then another then knocked on a door.

"Go away," a voice cried out.

"No."

"Harry?" the voice called out. The sharp sounds of footsteps were heard, and the door was thrown open. An eight-year-old boy hugged Harry.

"Roger," Harry said quickly, "there is not much time but I wanted you to meet a friend of mine. Hermione, this is my baby brother, the Marquis of London."

"My Lord Marquis," Hermione said as she curtsied.

Roger smiled, then frowned. "Why is there not much time?"

"Lord Bontriomphe went to a lecture at the Sorcerer's Convention. We have twenty minutes or so before we need to head back."

Roger's smile returned. This short visit was to be a trick played on his guardian. That made it worthwhile. "Twenty questions then. I ask first. Hermione, are you titled."

"No, I'm a common working girl."

"What do you work at?"

"Don't I get a question?"

"You do, and that was your question." Roger gave her a smirk.

"I work at magic. And how did you get so smart?"

"I was born that way? And I know what you meant." Roger proved his age by sticking out his tongue then laughed when Hermione went to grab at it. By the end of twenty questions they were fast friends.

Roger would be in a good mood for days because Harry told him Hermione would be spending the holidays. And his good mood was extended when he overheard the rumours about her and Robert. It ended when Lord Bontriomphe heard the rumours. He always ruined everything.

* * *

Cornelius Fudge was controlling his temper as he faced the fireplace where Albus Dumbledore's face appeared in the flames.

"Have the students been returned?"

"They have, and they are in high spirits for the most part."

"I am relieved to hear that," the Minister said. "Why were they detained?"

"They weren't. Robert Somerset, who is in the infirmary by the way, needed time to recover from the attack. You do remember that." Albus showed no emotions, even though the remark was clearly meant as a rebuke. "His brother, Harry, and the rest of the students went to a, um, magic circus in the meantime."

Fudge was astonished. He had been raging all this time about a kidnaping. "Whose idea was that?"

"Harry's Uncle. Harry Potter does have relatives in the other world, and they are quite fond of him. His uncle thought it would be a nice treat."

"Um, well, yes," Fudge said uncomfortably. "I can't fault them for that," then he added harshly, "but we must have better communication in case something like this occurs again. You might suggest letting one of OUR people have one of those stones they use. It could save valuable time in the future."

"I will," Albus said, and the fireplace held an ordinary fire once more.


	22. Classes Begin

Chapter Twenty Two: Classes Begin

"Will you please stop that." Robert shouted.

He looked at the laughing faces at the Gryffindor table as Hermione Granger levitated his glass of pumpkin juice with her new wand. She was enjoying herself. Robert shook his head and turned to talk to Justin Finch-Fetchley when the glass dropped into place at his side.

"I always miss the good things."

"Is that a children's toy?" Justin asked.

"Apparently it is a new design. Hermione is testing it."

"I'm happy she's in Gryffindor," Justin admitted. "I wouldn't want to be part of her tests."

* * *

"I have to go," Hermione said suddenly, and grabbed her books, running from the Great Hall.

"What was that about?" Harry asked. "We are going to the same class."

Ron shrugged his shoulders. "I think she's up to something. I looked at her schedule and she has two classes listed for the same time." Ron grinned. "So, Harry, what's it like being Robert?"

"I do not understand."

"I know," Ron answered. "Before you left for the summer, you didn't understand. Now you do not understand."

"Contractions show poor breeding," Harry said with a hint of embarrassment.

"Right. They might think you grew up with muggles or something."

Both boys grinned at the reference to the Dursleys, but Harry felt he had to add something. "It is not like that, Ron. When I am there, at home or on ship, I am expected to be someone. I have to be that someone. I can not explain the why of it, but I want to be that someone."

"I know why," Ron said as he put a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder. "That's how things are when you're home."

Harry started at the way Ron said that last word, then had to give a sincere smile. Ron knew he had the right of it. Harry, after thirteen years, had a place he considered 'home'.

"Ron, I know 'it's' early, but we've invited Hermione to our house for Christmas. I thought you might like to join us."

"I'll ask Mum and Dad," Ron said. "Will you be asking Colin?"

"I already did. He wants to know if he can bring his camera."

Both boys were laughing when they left for their first class.

* * *

"Such bright eager faces," Master Sorcerer Sean O'Lochlainn said as he stood in the front of the class. "I am sure we will both learn from each other as the year progresses."

Dean Thomas raised his hand. "Professor, you don't use a wand. How can you teach us magic?"

"I do use wands," Master Sean said and lifted the sorcerer's case by his feet, placing it on the desk. Most of the class was surprised because they had not noticed the case at all until that moment. As he reached into the case he commented, "in my world, we perform magic in a different manner. I understand that a student, in one of the other houses, last year used a defensive spell I taught him, with interesting effect. Do any of you know of this incident?"

Everyone raised their hand and several turned to look at Harry.

"These are my wands," Master Sean said, "a gold wand, a silver wand, as well as one of lead and one of glass. In Sorcery, what a wand is made of will affect the spell." He reached into his bag and pulled out two knives. " In magic, one of the laws is the Law of Similarity. That law permits us to use an object to represent another object in the course of casting a spell. This is a sharp knife. I would use this to represent an object that cuts. This other knife is a dull knife. Does anyone know what a dull knife can be best used to represent?"

No one raised their hand.

Master Sean smirked. "It can be best used to represent a dull knife. The most similar thing you can use to represent an object is the object itself." He grinned an infectious smile. "Is there a one of you who is not confused?"

Seamus Finnigan raised his hand, "I think I'm confused, Sir."

"But you are not sure?" Master Sean asked in mock disbelief.

"I'm sure," Lavender Brown said, and everyone laughed

Master Sean put his tools away and set the bag back on the floor. "There was a point to what I did and said. Something may seem simple until you look at it. Magic is like that, but the more you understand the subtleties, the more powerful a spell you can cast. I shall warn you now. This class will consist mostly of lectures. I will attempt to teach all of you some spells, such as the spell that Milord Robert Somerset used effectively." Everyone in the class grinned. "I can not and will not teach you everything. And I will also be using an assistant, your new Groundskeeper, to teach the more mundane spells that you cast with YOUR wands, as well as how to deal with some of the magical creatures in your world. I also have one ironclad rule that every one of my students must follow, without exception. If I say something that you do not understand, you must tell me. Ignorance is excusable unless it is reinforced. Then it becomes stupidity. Do all of you understand this rule?"

Master Sean smiled as everyone said yes. "Let us first discuss the Laws of Magic. I have already mentioned the Law of Similarity. Similarity means that one object that is similar to another object may be used in casting a spell to represent that object. I asked you earlier about the dull knife. A dull knife is similar to a dull knife because it is a dull knife. But let me give you another example, an example involving the Dark Arts. Is there anyone who has not heard of a voodoo doll? Good. This is something that is 'similar' in both our worlds. A voodoo doll is a simulacrum used to represent a particular person on whom ill fortune is wished. It is most effective if it is made with a part of that person's body, such as a fingernail, because that fingernail, which represents the victim's body is, in fact, part of the victim's body."

Hermione raised her hand. "Professor, I read that most voodoo dolls, in this world, are made from an article of the victim's clothing."

"There, Miss Granger, you are dealing with the Law of Relativity. The strength of the doll now comes from a different source. It depends for strength upon how long the victim owned that piece of clothing, and how he felt about it. A favorite shirt of a few months could be stronger than an old housecoat that has been lying around for years. The doll's strength is 'relative' depending upon the material used." He pointed to Neville Longbottom. "And your question is?"

"I was curious about the Traveler Stone, Sir. Does that use the Law of Similarity? After all, Robert appeared where Harry was."

"An excellent question," Professor Quirrell said, and Neville beamed at the compliment. "The Traveler Stone is a perfect example. To touch it is to move to another world in place of your exact double. You can change places with a similar object because that object IS you. In Robert Somerset's case, he used a control stone. Instead of appearing in place of Harry, he appeared in front of Harry. In that case, the Law of Attraction was also involved . . ."

* * *

"Harry," Master Sean called as the class ended. "I need to talk with you before your next class." As Ron made to stay, the tubby Irishman asked him to leave. It was to be a private conversation.

"I'll see you in Potions," Ron told Harry as he left.

"You had to remind me," Harry said, feigning disgust. He turned back to the Master Sorcerer as Ron left.

"Harry, I have talked to your uncle, Remus Lupin, about the incident on the train. Are you aware of how he made the dementor retreat from you and your brother?"

"Vaguely, Master Sean. I was present when Hermione and the others described what happened. I know he cast a spell but that is all I know."

The Sorcerer nodded. "It is called the Patronus Charm. While you were in London I had the opportunity to discuss the matter with him, and I regret to tell you that you will be losing some of your free time."

Harry gave a thin smile as he guessed what was coming. "He's going to teach me the spell?"

"You and Robert. The two of you will make arrangements with him. These are to be private lessons, by the way, and not for public knowledge." Master Sean paused then added, "there are people in authority who may think we are overreacting. It would be best not to draw too much attention to what we are doing."

Harry's thin smile grew. "Then why do Robert and I have to wear our uniforms instead of robes. That draws attention to us."

Quirrell grew a smile of his own. "Remember the Law of Relativity, Milord. What you appear to be is not what you are, only what you seem. It is safer if you seem less than you are."

Harry frowned at that remark, but only nodded. There was the obvious meaning, not to upset the Ministry, but there was another meaning underneath. Harry could not fathom the second meaning and knew that Master Sean O'Lochlainn would not explain. Harry decided to try a different tactic.

"Master Sean, may I ask about our uniforms. When Robert and I were first told we would be returning, we were also told not to wear them. Now we are being ordered to."

Master Sean smiled. "I think you know enough to figure that out. You have enough of your father in you. But I will tell you the obvious points. The Minister for Magic has stopped short of openly demanding that we give him a control stone. He and his friends have their own uses for it. His Majesty, on the other hand, wishes to make a show of power. Do you understand?"

Harry paused in thought then looked up in surprise. It seemed almost a joke, but Master Sean was right. He did understand. Harry and his brother represented, to the Ministry, a backward world that was inferior in magic. But the fact that they wore their uniforms, that they displayed the emblem of the Empire, was a subtle sign that this backward power did not recognize itself as subservient.

"Is that also why you are a teacher here, Master Sean?"

The Irishman chuckled. "Hardly, Milord. It seems that Professor Dumbledore had a difficult time trying to fill this position. I took the position as a favor to him, and because I had the time."

Harry joined in with the Sorcerer's laugh. Master Sean had taken a leave of absence as Master Forensic Sorcerer to the Duke of Normandy, to coincide with the leave taken by his colleague, Lord Darcy, the Duke's Chief Investigator. Harry smiled as he remembered the short excursion to Normandy to attend the wedding of his uncle to his Godmother, Her Grace, Mary, Dowager Duchess of Cumberland, newly elevated Lady of the Order of Saint Agnes. Lord and Lady Darcy were taking an extended honeymoon to parts unknown.

* * *

Robert sat at the table in the common room and stared at the window. For all that had happened, he missed Ernie. They had spent too many nights the previous year sitting at this very table with books piled around them. It was a familiarity that he missed.

"May I join you?" Susan Bones asked. When Robert nodded, she sat down. "You looked lost."

"Thinking about the past," Robert said ruefully. "My world keeps changing on me. I have lost my familiar routine."

"A lot has happened," Susan admitted. "At least you're better off than you were."

"Am I?" Robert asked. "I feel as though my life hangs on a thin thread. If I err once, everything will come undone." He looked up. "Susan, what do you think of me?"

"I like you," Susan admitted. "I thought I liked you better but then Ron . . ."

"No," Robert interrupted. "What do you think of me as far as my background?"

Susan smiled wryly. "I think thirteen is too young an age to be in the military."

"In my world you would not be trained as a sorcerer until you were at least fourteen. Even then, you would be an apprentice for several years."

"Things are different," Susan acknowledged.

"And I have a foot in both worlds." Robert could not shake his melancholy. "And now I need to make my way to my extra class. It should prove interesting."

"I know it will," Susan said as they stood up. "I wonder how many people will be there?"

"Only Harry and I," Robert answered.

"That's right. You missed the Welcoming Feast. Dumbledore told everyone about the class and invited all interested students to attend."

Robert looked at Susan in surprise. "Do you really think many students will want to attend a class on Military Requirements of His Royal Majesty's Navy?"

"I am, out of curiosity. I'm sure quite a few will show up, although I don't know how many will stay."

* * *

Robert didn't know what to expect as he and Susan walked to the designated classroom. The room itself was empty, literally. There were no desks or chairs. Only four walls with a door on one side and windows on the other. Harry was standing in the room, already. Colin was next to him, holding a camera as usual. Ron, and all the other Weasleys were also there.

Malfoy was there as well, laughing at the lack of furnishings. His loud comment about the poor and backward world drew some laughs, mostly from Crabbe and Goyle but it was obvious he had said that line before, probably several times before.

In all, some sixty students came. The largest number came from Hufflepuff with Gryffyndor not far behind. There were a dozen from Ravenclaw but, except for Malfoy and his cronies, only two from Slytherin. Everyone was curious about the strange class.

Robert walked over to Harry, making two beacons of blue in a sea of black robes. They had barely said hello when a familiar voice yelled at a student to get out of the way. Both boys turned instinctively and saluted Captain Grissom as he entered the room and closed the door behind him. Malfoy made a comment too low to be heard by them, but the laughter of those around him was clear to everyone in the room. Captain Grissom saluted the Somerset twins then doffed his hat, tossing it aside. The brim struck Malfoy on the forehead with an audible thump, and an equally audible, "OW!" Everyone went silent.

"The first duty of any seaman is to be aware at all times," Captain Grissom said loudly. "The next time I toss my hat to someone I expect it to be caught." He turned directly to Draco Malfoy. "Pick it up and return it to me."

"You threw it at me, deliberately," Malfoy sneered.

"Yes," Grissom said evenly, "and I hit my mark. Pick up my hat."

"I'm not your servant," Draco said.

"You are not. You are my student. Pick up the hat."

"I'm not your student, either." Malfoy's anger was clear. "Dumbledore invited us here to watch . . ."

"Headmaster Dumbledore invited you to attend. You are here. You are a student in this class. You will pick up my hat."

"I will NOT."

Draco Malfoy went to storm out of the classroom only to be grabbed by Captain Grissom and tossed back to his starting point.

"I have plenty of time, and in a battle of wills I will win. You will pick up that hat. You will hand it to me. You will apologize for your lack of discipline. You have no choice in this matter. By showing up, you agreed to be a student in this class. You have to do as I tell you."

"Then I'll drop this class," Malfoy yelled, but made no effort to leave. Several snickers were heard around the room.

"QUIET," Grissom roared in anger. "The first lesson in this class is discipline. All of you will remain quiet." He turned back to Malfoy. "You can drop this class only with my permission. Pick up my hat. Now."

The color drained from Malfoy's face, and he slowly stooped. He stood up, hat in hand and held it out for the Captain to take. And he apologized. He spoke the words woodenly, but he spoke them. "I'm sorry for my lack of discipline."

Grissom took his hat and put it back on, giving Malfoy a sneer of his own. "You have my permission to leave this class."

Draco fled.

Grissom walked toward the window and looked at the roomful of students. Almost all of them were surprised by what happened. "I know that many of you did not expect this. All of you who are no longer interested may leave with my permission."

As the classroom slowly emptied, Fred Weasley raised his hand. "Professor, outside of yelling at useless gits, what will you be teaching in this class?"

"Yeah," George said. "We already know how to yell at useless gits, but that hat trick was a nice touch."

Grissom looked surprised, but noticed the shared look that Harry and Robert had. The boy next to them, obviously a younger brother, had the same look.

"You have to learn the 'hat trick' on your own. And I am a Captain, not a Professor. Are you interested in hands on experience on how to handle a ship?"

Fred laughed. "That's too much like real work for us. Permission to leave, Captain."

Both he and George saluted.

"Dismissed," Grissom said as he returned their salute. After they left, he added, "Thank God. For a minute I thought those two were actually going to stay."

Only a handful of students remained.

"I want names, and why you are staying."

"Cedric Diggory, Captain, and I'm not here as a student. I'm Captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, and Robert is our Keeper. I'm trying to figure out his schedule so that I can arrange practices."

"Quidditch?"

"Aerial football, Captain," Robert offered. "I guard the goals."

Grissom gave a curious smile. "I may enjoy this duty after all. Captain Diggory, I will have to let you know. I need to know first how many students I actually have."

"If you could let me know, too," a boy the same age said.

"And you are?"

"Oliver Wood, Gryffindor. Harry's our Seeker."

Grissom looked at Harry.

"I, um, well, I chase the Snitch," Harry stuttered. "I will explain later, Captain."

Grissom nodded. "And you are?" he said to a third boy.

"Ron Weasley. I'm Harry's best mate at school."

"And are you staying?"

"Sure. You've got to be a great teacher after what you did to Malfoy. And this sounds more fun than Divination. That Professor Trelawney is weird. I'll drop her class instead."

Grissom gave Harry a curious look. "Divination?"

"Tea Cups and Crystal Balls. I think."

A hesitant tone came over Grissom's voice. "Black Magic?"

"Not the way Trelawney teaches it," Ron smirked, and another boy laughed with him.

"I have a great deal to learn," Grissom said, then turned to Ginny Weasley and Susan Bones, the only two girls who remained. "And why ever are you here?"

"She dared me," Susan Bones explained.

"She dared me back," Ginny Weasley said. "Besides, I like to keep up with my brother."

"So do I," Susan said. Both she and Ginny laughed as Ron blushed. When she caught Harry's eye, Ginny gave him a mischievous grin.

"I was warned that this might happen," Grissom told them. "I would have you know that you will be my first, um, females. I will try to hold you to the same standards as the other cadets."

"Cadets?" Ginny asked.

"Naval Students," Grissom explained. He turned to the last boy in the room.

"I'm Colin Creevey, Sir."

"And why are you here."

"I wanted to take your picture, your photograph, but I was told to ask your permission. Can I?"

Grissom gave the boy a strange look. Harry recognized it. It was the same look he gave Jamie Tarr, the Scottish boy. And, although he did not remember, it was the same look Grissom gave him

"Yes," Grissom said, "but I want a print." He stood still while Colin focused his lens then snapped the picture. Colin thanked him profusely and started to leave but the Captain called him back.

"Colin, may I ask you a question?"

"Sure," Colin said, the perpetual smile still on his face.

"Do you know what this is?"

"It's a coin. Is that money from your world?"

Grissom nodded, noting the look of curiosity in Colin's eyes. "It is. It is the King's Shilling, and it has an interesting tradition behind it. Would you like it?"

Colin managed a happy smile and a frown at the same time. "What do I have to do?"

"Stay in this class." Grissom was smiling inwardly. He had the boy's interest. "The truth is that I need an even number of students. How else can I pair everyone up? And something tells me you would do well."

"And if I stay, you'll give me that coin?"

"I will not give you this coin, Colin. This coin has a tradition. It can only be taken. But if you like, I can give you a uniform to go with it."

Captain Grissom gave Colin his best smile. He had no idea what was going through Colin's mind, but somehow he knew what the answer was going to be. Colin's lip stiffened and his hand reached out and took the coin.

"Bribing the students?" Severus Snape asked. Standing in the doorway with him was Albus Dumbledore. Draco Malfoy was behind them, grinning.

"If we might talk with you for a few moments," Albus asked calmly.

* * *

"You deliberately struck a student." Severus Snape, his anger showing, pointed at Draco Malfoy.

"I deliberately threw my hat to him to see what he would do." Captain Grissom answered contemptuously. "He did nothing. The boy did not even understand that he was a part of the class I was teaching. He, and most of the students who came, only wanted to watch. I was treated as though I was an animal in a zoo."

"That is beside the point."

"That IS the point. He was invited to attend. That has a clear and specific meaning."

"Excuse me," Professor Dumbledore said, "I have realized that the fault is mine. Professor Quirrell even explained this to me when we first met. Captain Grissom, 'to attend' in this world usually means to come and to observe. Professor Snape, in his world it means to come and to participate. Under the circumstances I must drop your complaint against the captain, but if you wish to make one against me, I will duly note it."

Snape, clearly disappointed, shook his head. "As long as we understand each other, NOW."

Albus Dumbledore stayed as Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy departed.

"I was curious to see Colin Creevey pocket a coin. I assume it came from you."

Grissom nodded. "I was told to keep my eyes open. It may be his association with Harry, but the boy has the spark in him. A time will come when our two worlds will part ways. He will have a path to follow regardless of which path he chooses. And because of whom his friends are, he may make either choice."

Albus smiled warmly. "Does your King wish to entice all of Harry's friends? He is more than willing to give them up. Your world has given him a richer gift. A family."

"I will be honest, Albus. I was chosen for this mission for two reasons. The first is because of my history with members of Henry Somerset's family. The second reason is because I have proven my ability to adapt rapidly to unusual circumstances. I was told everything about your world, and His Royal Majesty's plans, only recently. I was also told that you agreed with these plans, but that is neither here nor there. If I find someone promising, I will try to recruit their services for the Empire, but I will do so openly. And I will do so because I have been ordered to do so. I find no pleasure in my surroundings, being stuck in a classroom after more than four decades at sea."

Dumbledore kept quiet as the Captain ranted. "You have not been given an easy task, Peter, but I think I have done something to help." He pointed, and Grissom followed, his eyes looking through the window toward the lake. Docked near the shore was a frigate. It was small, but it was a beautiful sight. Albus noticed his look. "I should point out that magic in this world can affect our perceptions of space and size. You will find that the lake will seem big enough to meet any need, even the desire to spend all day sailing at top speed."

* * *

Captain Grissom entered the classroom twenty minutes after he had left, although it had seemed a lot longer to him. "It has been settled. The six of you are now my class. Immediately after last class tomorrow, meet me at the lake. We will discuss schedules then, as well as form you into working pairs."

"It's a large lake," Susan Bones pointed out. "Where should we meet?"

"There is only one ship on it," Grissom answered. He gestured out the window as though he had known it was there all the time.

* * *

"Should the two of you be going to dinner?" Grissom asked of the twins, as the other students went to leave.

"Captain," Harry asked. "How is it that you are here?"

"Because I was ordered to be here. I thought that was obvious?"

"Excuse me, Captain," Robert asked. "We are curious as to the reason behind the order."

"The two of you are the reason, Lieutenant. That was all that I was told and that is all I can tell either of you. Both of you know more than I."

"What do they know?" Colin asked, making it clear that he never got as far as the door.

Grissom smiled. "They know that the Anglo-French Empire is a backward place compared to your world. We have a great deal of learning to do."


	23. A Naval Career

Chapter Twenty Three: A Naval Career

Hermione came late to the Great Hall for dinner and saw most of the Gryffindor table was full. She noticed that a space was open next to Robert and decided to join him at the Hufflepuff table. Robert looked at her without surprise and asked how her day was.

"Terrible," She admitted, "and great. How did your navy class go?"

Robert smiled. "The Captain deliberately humiliated Malfoy. You would have loved it."

Hermione smiled. "You have to tell me all about it. First, who's this captain?"

"Captain Grissom. He gave Harry and I our initial training." Robert then told her about the incident with the hat.

Hermione laughed. "He sounds like an interesting man. What's he like?"

"He is at the teacher's table, talking to Hagrid."

Hermione looked up to see a tall man, heavily muscled. He was not handsome by any standards, with a plain face that was given character by the harshness of the weather from years spent at sea, but it also gave him a formidable look.

"I'm curious," Hermione asked. "What is he going to teach the two of you?"

"The six of us," Robert corrected. "Dumbledore opened the class to anyone who wanted to attend. Six of us stayed when only two of us had to. And he is going to teach all of us how to captain a ship."

"I heard about the ship on the lake. The class sounds wonderful."

"It will be," Robert said cheerlessly. "We will learn everything about every type of ship, how each ship is manned and supplied, how to stock supplies and to order them. What forms to fill out, paysheets, rosters, inventories, processing orders and requisitions . . ."

"Enough," Hermione laughed. "That sounds like more book work than I have." To change the subject slightly she asked, "I'm guessing Ron is taking the class." Robert nodded. "And I noticed Susan Bones sitting with him?""She is taking the class as well." Robert paused to look behind him. "They do like each other. In time they could become serious."

"They're only thirteen," Hermione reminded him.

Robert paused. "In my world, thirteen is not too young to begin thinking about such things."

"Harry told me," Hermione commented.

"Hermione," Robert said in a suddenly serious tone. "In my position, I need to think about such things. I am heir to the Duchy of Cambridge."

Hermione was surprised at the look in Robert's eyes, and began to understand what he was saying, but she still had to ask, "What do you mean?"

"I need to think of my bloodline, of securing my title for the next generation." He put his hand gently on Hermione's. "Would I be too forward to consider you a close friend?"

Hermione swallowed hard. "A close friend?"

"I am asking you to consider it," Robert said sincerely. "I, for one, am not planning to do anything until after we have finished our schooling, but showing an interest would sit easier with the Council of Lords."

"Easier?"

"I will not even be of age to wed until this summer as it is, and I will need to petition His Majesty on your behalf. I think he would approve your admission to the Order of Saint Agnes, especially as my Aunt and Godmother, the Lady Darcy is now in that order . . ."

"STOP," Hermione screamed, causing everyone nearby to turn to look at her.

"I am sorry," Robert said as he took his hand away. "I should have broached the matter more carefully."

"You had me marching down the aisle without even waiting for an answer," Hermione said, more with hurt than anger.

"I did not mean to be rude," Robert said with embarrassment, and stood up. "I only wanted to explain how such things are done, in my world, for someone in my position."

Hermione grabbed his hand. "I was surprised." At that point she realized that everyone around her was completely quiet and looking directly at her. "This is something we need to talk about, PRIVATELY."

* * *

"What happened?" Ginny asked as Hermione and Robert settled down.

Harry smirked. "Robert asked Hermione to marry him."

Ron spit out a mouthful of pumpkin juice and began coughing.

"I didn't know they were dating," Ginny said evenly, trying to control her surprise.

"They are not," Harry responded. "It is a difference of culture. They will not date unless Hermione says yes."

"Don't you date someone to find out if you want to marry them?"

"No," Harry answered, "Not in the Empire. I date to find out about the woman I chose to marry."

Susan Bones looked up as Ron stopped coughing. "What if you don't like her?"

"I offer to withdraw my favor. If she agrees, then we are both free to go our separate ways. If she does not agree, then we marry anyway. That is why you have to be very careful who your friends are."

"So if Hermione says yes, he's committed to marrying her regardless of what happens."

Harry smirked. "Yes and no. My uncle, Lord Darcy, related a case he needed to investigate. A couple had made a commitment to each other over his father's objections. To smooth matters over, her brother contrived to kill his father but was found out. In such a case, the commitment is obviously dissolved as though it had never been. That is an extreme example, I admit, but it does illustrate the point. As it is, Hermione has no title. She will not be acceptable unless that changes. As an example, my Godmother, the Dowager Duchess of Carlisle is a commoner. Her marriage to the late Duke of Carlisle was permitted because he already had an heir by his first wife. She was only able to marry my uncle after she was raised to the Order of Saint Agnes. This made her a noblewoman in her own right."

Susan nodded. "Isn't Professor O'Lochlainn is a friend of your uncle?"

"They work together. Master Sean is a Forensic Sorcerer. He investigates crimes when magic is believed to have been involved."

Ron smiled. "He's that world's version of an Auror. That's why Dumbledore gave him the job."

Susan nodded. "And I do believe we have successfully changed the subject."

* * *

"I am a fool," Robert said to no one in particular as he walked out of the school.

"But you're popular," Colin said from behind.

Robert turned around and saw the boy had his camera, as usual. "I suppose you wish to preserve this moment with a picture."

"No. I wanted to know how serious you are." Colin had his ever present smile, but there was a seriousness to it. "If I heard correctly, you asked Hermione Granger to agree to marry you in five years."

"Four." Robert paused to smirk. "I was trying to tell Hermione that I liked her, but my world and yours are too different in some areas. For me, if I approach any woman I must make my intentions known. Therefore I told Hermione that should conditions become proper I would want to marry her."

"Why didn't you just tell her you liked her?"

Robert saw Colin's smirk. "The reason is simple. I have invited Hermione to come to my brother's house for the Christmas holiday. It would be improper to invite her as 'a friend'."

"But if you're engaged, it's not a problem? " Colin laughed as he understood. "When are you going to break up?"

This time Robert laughed. "My fault was in thinking we will not. Who can foretell the ways of fate?"

Colin nodded. "Could I ask a serious question? About Captain Grissom."

"Yes. Captain Grissom will get a uniform made to fit you."

"Why?"

"He thinks you are useful. I think he is soliciting your services for the Crown. Good officers are always in demand. The Captain thinks that you could be a good officer, with a few years of training."

"I don't like the idea of all that schoolwork. Couldn't I just get a Barony like Ernie did?"

Robert was caught by surprise and looked to find Colin already laughing at him.

"Robert?" Colin ran after the Hufflepuff who had started walking toward the lake. "Why was Ernie made a Baron? He doesn't look the type, if you know what I mean."

"I know what you mean." Robert sighed. "I do not know the truth but I can surmise. I think His Majesty was trying to be nice."

"Nice? I'm only twelve and that doesn't even make sense to me."

"It is this way, Colin. Ernie was given a Barony but I doubt anyone expected him to accept it. Nobility has requirements, and one of these is that all Lords and Ladies of the realm must belong to the Church in order to be vested in their rights of station. Upon inheriting a position, or being given one as Ernie was, the Lord or Lady must also physically visit his or her fief and lay claim to it in the name of the King by way of the Ceremony of Investiture. And all of this must be done within a given period of time or the fief is forfeit. It is a guess but I believe everyone thought that Ernie would forfeit the Barony."

"But he didn't?"

"No, he did not. If he had, he would still be considered a lord, out of courtesy. This is how the Crown honours foreign dignitaries. Instead, Ernie fulfilled all of the requirements of his rank."

"Then I'm really in your Navy?"

Robert stopped when Colin did. "Honestly? I think Captain Grissom was trying to be nice. He will even get you a uniform if you ask him."

"And if I fulfill all the requirements?" Colin's smile was gone. "Robert, I had six months of my life torn away from me because I didn't know what to expect. I came back to find a different world. I need to know. Is this real, or is it just for fun?"

Robert paused as an unbidden thought came back to him. He looked at Colin. "An act done in jest or noble cause is still an act done."

* * *

Lucius Malfoy was very calm as he talked to the Minister for Magic. "There were two incidents in two days, and both involved my son. I think I have every right to make a complaint. My son was attacked by a Hippogriff and only escaped by his quick reflexes. Then he is deliberately assaulted by this joke of a teacher. After the way I was manipulated last year, I must assume these actions were planned."

Cornelius Fudge was more than willing to be sympathetic to Malfoy's case. "I will agree that Rubeus Hagrid may have erred in bringing his students in contact with such dangerous animals. I have no difficulty in calling an investigation to decide on his qualifications as well as whether it is safe to let the hippogriff remain." Fudge was happy to see Lucius Malfoy smile. It made his next statement easier to say. "As far as the man who attacked your son, there are diplomatic problems."

"This empire he comes from?" Malfoy's disgust was obvious.

"Exactly." Fudge's attitude was a mirror. "By agreement, the Ministry cannot intervene. Any actions taken have to be PRIVATE matters, regardless of how sympathetic the Ministry is toward the injured party."

Malfoy understood the Minister's suggestion, but knew that such an action would probably do little more than cause embarrassment. He decided to test a theory he was forming. "These people. I know they are studying us. Have they shared their means of travel between worlds with us?"

"Not as yet, but we are finally discussing the matter. It is a delicate issue."

Malfoy repressed a sneer. An embarrassment was what the Minister wanted. It could force the hand of these people. And such a gift could be useful . . . in the right hands. "I am sorry to hear that, Minister, but I do feel the need to pursue this matter." Both men smiled, and Lucius rose to take his leave. "Oh, by the way, Cornelius. About the matter of Hagrid and that beast, I have a friend, MacNair, who is an expert in that area. I would like to see him involved in the investigation, but . . . he is a friend."

"I will keep him in mind. Any report he makes would be reviewed as a matter of course."

The conversation ended there. Both men understood each other perfectly, and were willing to use the other. The only question was who would benefit more.

* * *

"Your Majesty." The Lord High Admiral bowed deeply to King John IV. It was two days after the previous conversation.

"Have you read the report fully, Admiral?"

The Admiral grinned. "It was most amusing, Your Majesty. Captain Grissom has his sails well trimmed with two young girls as cadets."

His Majesty permitted himself to grin. "And the boy?"

"We have his measurements. We will make a uniform for him to play in. Shall I make him a full Lieutenant for bravely taking the coin?"

Both men laughed briefly. "My Lord Admiral, that is not the boy I was referring to, and you know it."

The Lord High Admiral smiled. "If you mean the Malfoy boy, Your Majesty, the boy was deliberately humiliated with no room to leave any doubt."

"And his father?"

"He has talked to the Minister, and is now talking to their version of a barrister. He will make a demonstration in their courts."

His August Majesty nodded. "We are still a backward people. You are aware of that. Why else would one of our own act with such barbarism."

The Lord High Admiral refused to accept the jest. "Your Majesty. The wizards have toys. They behave like children. We have skills. One skilled and dedicated man can do wonders that they have never dreamed."

His Majesty started. "You know something that we do not."

This time the Admiral started. "It appears I do, Your Majesty. And it is an item of some import. In a quiet moment, after his baptism, Lieutenant Lord Henry Somerset revealed a curious incident to his Great Uncle, the Duke of Cambridge, who related it to myself. I had thought he was informing me IN ADDITION. I should have . . ."

"My Lord Admiral," King John said in good humor. "Simply tell Us. It is obvious that you are already acting upon this information."

"Lord Henry's scar. He has felt it presence all his life until he went to Saint Cathal's Cathedral. It was the first time he had entered a church . . . in our world."

King John nodded thoughtfully. "Inform Master Sorcerer Sean O'Lochlainn and have him relate the information to Father Maurice Pannier. We will personally inform the Archbishop of London."

John IV Plantagenet smiled. For the first time since the recovery of the missing control stone and contact with the parallel world, His Majesty knew that his own world had the means to defend itself.

* * *

"What is it?" Harry asked.

After his naval class, he and Ron had decided to pay Hagrid a visit. Robert and Colin joined them.

"It's that Malfoy," Hagrid fumed. "Ye missed the first day of class, so ye don't know. I had Hippogriffs." Hagrid smiled as he said that word. "Wonderful creatures, but ye have to mind yer manners or they'll try and claw ye."

"One clawed Malfoy?" Harry asked, almost hoping it was true.

"Nothin' like that but it snapped its beak at him just to let him know to stay out of range. That boy never bothered to mind the rules. And now the Ministry is investigating."

"That is curious," Robert said thoughtfully, making Hagrid look up.

"Snape stopped to see Captain Grissom during class," Harry told him.

"Yeah," Ron added. "Malfoy's dad is accusing the Captain of deliberately hitting his little boy, Draco."

Hagrid was incensed. "How'd he ever get that idea?"

Colin smirked. "When the Captain deliberately hit Malfoy with his hat."

"And when he pushed Malfoy into the wall," Ron added.

Hagrid grinned. "I guess that captain is a decent sort after all, despite what they say about that other world. But ye don't need to hear my moaning. What's yer class like? I've seen that ship."

"It is boring," Robert said and Harry agreed.

"It's great," Ron added with Colin nodding.

The four boys looked at each other and laughed.

* * *

Captain Grissom paired the six students. Harry and Ron, being best mates, were an obvious pair. The two girls, Ginny and Susan, were also paired. Which left Robert and Colin, until Captain Grissom had a better idea. Rather than being trapped with a pair of girls, he changed the partner's around.

Robert ended up being partnered with Harry. The class was designed for these two and Grissom would give them the most attention. He took advantage of the emotional attraction and Ron was put with Susan. Colin ended up as Ginny's partner.

Classes were held five days a week. All six students met on Mondays and Fridays. Each pair met on one of the other three days. Joint classes were for practical knowledge and were mostly book work. The paired classes were the physical part of the class, where the students learn how to physically set ropes for sails or control rudder and speed when using the engines. The only problem Grissom had was when, a week before Hallowe'en, Colin demanded his uniform. The request had been expected, but then Ginny Weasley insisted on one as well.

As it was regulation for all cadets, a formal request was sent to the Lord High Admiral's office at His Royal Majesty's Naval Headquarters in London.

* * *

The Lord High Admiral stood before the King. "It is real, Your Majesty, although based on family history the girl has most likely made this request in order to see what will happen. She is well aware that enrollment is limited strictly to men."

The King nodded. "We know We will enjoy this. What was your reply?"

"I felt obliged to make the offer. In her world, women and men are both in the military. There, such a request is normal. I have also made the effort to point out that the Lieutenants Somerset have committed themselves to a career, and that uniforms are issued to students in her world who make this commitment. I am sure she will decline the offer once the conditions are made known."

"And if she does not?" His Majesty was right. He was enjoying this.

The Lord High Admiral shrugged his shoulders. "If she is that determined, I will make her my personal aide once she completes her education."

"My Lord Admiral," His Majesty said. The smile was still on his lips. "The Creevey boy has been issued a uniform. Has he been informed of the situation?"

"Um," the Lord High Admiral answered. At that moment he thought of the perfect solution. He could have had the Somerset twins returned to this world for their lessons. The greater risk of exposure would have been better than this embarrassment of details. "Could Your Majesty give him an exemption?"

* * *

"Do you think I should?" Ginny asked as she leaned on the railing of the ship.

"Should what?" Colin asked.

"Accept the offer." Ginny showed him the letter. "After all, you accepted it."

Colin read the letter, and paled when he read the part about being committed to a career. This was not his agreement. He was given the uniform to help him feel part of the class. That was why he wore it. "Why would they say that. . ." he started to say, then realized something. They didn't want Ginny to say yes, but for some reason they couldn't stop her. And they had forgotten about him.

"Why would they say what?" Ginny asked.

"About Harry and Robert. They're officers and they're getting paid. They have the option to resign."

Ginny stared at Colin. "They are being paid to take this class?"

"Yeah. I thought you knew that."

"Are you being paid?" A gleam entered Ginny's eye.

"No, I'm, um, only an acting officer."

The gleam left Ginny's eye.

"Ginny, why do you want to join the Navy?"

"Hermione was telling me how it's only for men, in their world. I wanted to see what would happen." She sighed. "It's nice to know they would make an exception." She paused. "Colin, if you joined, then will you wear your uniform all the time."

Colin paused. It was a question he had never asked himself. He realized for the first time that when he took that coin he did not understand what he was doing, and he still didn't. Until he figured it out, he would have to give some lame excuse. "I only have one uniform. Harry has a trunk full of them."

Ginny smiled at the answer. "That's too bad. You look cute when you're dressed up."

As Ginny left the ship, Colin had another thought. Maybe he should dress in a uniform all the time. If Ginny likes him because of it . . .

Captain Grissom walked up as Colin stood by the gangplank watching his partner walk back to the school. He grinned to himself as he knew what the boy was thinking. It was called puppy love, and the small boy was truly a pup. "Colin, should you be heading back to the Castle? It is near time to eat."

"Captain," Colin asked. "Did I make a commitment?"

Grissom looked at the boy thoughtfully. "You will have to tell me."

"I don't know."

"Until you do, you are not allowed to wear that uniform."

Colin felt upset by the remark. He liked dressing up like Harry and Robert. It set him apart from everyone else. It made him feel special.

He stopped himself. That was what he had been doing when he first came to the school, when he was eleven. But he had lost six months of his life, Colin thought. He hadn't grown up at all.

"I only have one anyway," he said in a sour mood.

"Should I order more? Dumbledore can arrange for them to arrive in the morning if you are that eager."

Colin looked up at the Captain. His eyes were dry. He felt like crying but tears wouldn't come. "I wanted to be like Harry." He added without realizing it, "I wanted to be special."

"So did I," Grissom said with a far away look. Suddenly he was twelve years old and Captain Huxton was glaring at him demanding to know why he wanted to be a sailor. "I thought I would be taller if I wore a uniform."

Colin stared. Grissom had echoed his feelings exactly. Grissom noted the boy's reaction.

"Colin, don't ever grow up. The first thing you lose is your immortality. In exchange you get the knowledge that nothing lasts forever."

"It's too late," Colin answered.

"We never know what we have until it is gone." Grissom saluted the boy and sent him on his way.

Colin walked slowly back to the school. Dinner was almost starting when he arrived. He entered the Great Hall without bothering to change. As he sat down, one of his dorm mates commented that he was still wearing his uniform.

Colin looked at him without smiling and said carefully, "It is required of someone in my position."

Harry and Ron walked by to join Hermione who was already sitting with Ginny. Harry noticed Colin and said hi. Colin said hello and raised his hand to his forehead. Harry paused. He recognized that look. Nathan Brennan had given him the same look not that long ago. Colin was saluting a superior officer. Harry returned the salute, and went to join his friends.

In the morning, Colin awoke to find fresh uniforms in his trunk. He didn't feel special.


	24. Halloween

Chapter Twenty Four: Hallowe'en

Colin Creevey stood before the full length mirror. He adjusted his cravat, then pushed a stray blond hair off of his ear. He gave himself a smirk as he thought about his little brother, jealous of him for being a wizard. And now Dennis had a picture of his big brother in a real uniform. A grin formed on his face as Colin had a farfetched idea. What if it turned out that Dennis was a wizard as well? Just in case, he would warn Captain Grissom.

Colin left his dorm and went to the common room. It was empty except for Neville Longbottom.

"Has everyone left?"

Neville looked up. "Hermione's in her room. She doesn't want to see anyone."

"Did Robert ask her to marry him again?"

They both grinned at that, then Neville explained, "Hermione's cat attacked Scabbers again. Ron reminded her that she would get rid of it."

"What's she going to do?"

Neville shrugged. "I thought she'd make Robert take care of the cat but I guess I was wrong."

"Maybe she didn't think of it," Colin suggested. "Why don't we tell her?"

Colin walked to the set of stairs to the girls dorms and began climbing. Suddenly the steps collapsed into a slide and a loud claxon began to sound. Colin tumbled down and picked himself up. As Neville was helping him brush off his uniform, Hermione came sliding down the stairwell. She was holding Crookshanks and smirking at some private joke.

"Ron's not here?" Her smirk disappeared. Her thought that maybe he came back to apologize fled back into the fantasy cupboard of her mind. She noticed Colin adjusting his jacket. "Did you try to climb the stairs?"

"Didn't know they were jinxed. I wanted to tell you that Neville had a great idea on what to do with your cat."

Neville saw the look of anger flash in Hermione's eyes and said quickly. "You can have Robert take care of him. That way he's still around and you've kept your word to Ron." As Hermione paused in surprise, Neville added with a grin, "after all, he is a close friend."

Hermione snickered. "That's a wonderful idea, Neville. I should have thought of it myself."

Colin grinned at her sudden change in attitude and suggested she join them for the Hallowe'en feast. And a good time was had by all. (Except Robert).

* * *

Robert excused himself from the feast. He would return, but first he needed to be rid of a certain cat. Susan, sitting at the Gryffindor table pointed him out to Ron, who gave a rueful smile.

"Ron, you can't hold a grudge. Hermione told you she would get rid of the cat if it caused any more problems, and she was true to her word."

"But it's still in the school. What if that cat gets loose."

"Change the password. That should slow him down."

Ron laughed at the absurdity of the statement, then looked over to where Hermione was sitting. A sharp poke from Susan made him stand up and walk over to the Hufflepuff table.

"Hermione," Ron said softly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean all those things I said."

"I told you what I would do if Crookshanks didn't behave," Hermione reminded him with more cheerfulness than she felt. "I know you were upset."

"Um, yeah, thanks," Ron answered, then excused himself when Wayne Hopkins waved him over.

Hermione watched Ron leave, then watched him sit down as Wayne started to tell him something. After a few minutes she turned around to see Susan glaring at Ron for ignoring her. Hermione smiled. Everything was back to normal.

* * *

"How was Hogsmeade?" Harry asked politely as he sat next to Susan Bones. He owed it to Ron to distract her for a while.

"Ron didn't tell you? We made it a point to buy out the sweet shop so that you and Robert wouldn't be disappointed. Why couldn't you go, anyway?"

"Lord Bontriomphe refused permission. With that escaped convict, Sirius Black, somewhere, and the dementors by the entrance, he felt it would not be safe. Robert pointed out that Black was not after him but our guardian thought Black might make a mistake that he could not correct." To change the subject he asked, "Did Hermione go with you?"

Susan smiled. "I talked Justin into asking her." Her voice became a conspiratorial whisper. "He told her he'd feel like a fool because he was muggle born, and it would help to have someone share the experience. Hermione fell for it. And they had a wonderful time."

"I am glad. I was worried."

"You were jealous."

Harry grinned. "That, too."

Neville walked by at that moment, he and Harry looked at each other and grinned.

"Snape hates him, now," Harry commented.

"I heard about the boggart," Susan admitted. "Ron is very good at details. Remus Lupin is an excellent assistant. Between him and Master Sean, this must be the best DADA class we've ever had."

"Robert says that Master Sean is teaching your class his defense spells. In our class, we are learning to finesse our spells, to do more with less."

Fred interrupted. "Do you know what he's doing?"

"Sorry for listening in, but you were talking about our favorite teacher." George added. "We had to stop and listen."

Fred nodded. "We ran into Cho Chang. She says he's teaching them something else altogether. We're getting the Quidditch teams together to trade notes."

Susan was surprised. "Master Sean is teaching different classes to each house?"

Harry nodded. "The idea is to get everyone talking to each other. Our two houses are good at that, but he wants all the houses to talk to each other."

"Even the Slytherins?"

Fred answered. "Even them. We talked one of their beaters into joining us. You might know him. He was the one who laughed when he found out what your brother did to Malfoy last year."

George laughed at the thought. "We'll let you know when and where. It should be soon."

"You're not surprised," Susan said as the Weasley twins left.

Harry nodded. "You do know that Master Sean is my Godfather." Susan gave him a surprised no. "He told me what he was planning. If it works, he will keep teaching different classes. Otherwise, he will rotate the lessons so that we all learn the same things."

Susan was amazed. If the Weasley Twins succeeded in their plans, then . . . "That is an amazing idea."

"That is how Master Sean thinks. He wants to teach as much as he can. He will not be here next year."

"He won't."

"Remember my uncle, Lord Darcy? He took a leave of a year after his marriage. Master Sean works with him and so he took leave as well. That is why he is able to teach this course."

Susan nodded then looked up. "Robert's back."

* * *

Susan was sitting next to Robert as the feast came to an end. Both had stuffed themselves. "Didn't we do this last year?"

"Yes we did," Robert said, refusing to move.

"Everyone else has already gone," Susan pointed out.

"You are still here," Robert pointed out in turn. "You could have left with Ron."

"Ron ignored me half the night to talk about Quidditch. He can leave by himself. Besides, he left with Harry and Hermione."

"Good, then we can stay here and not be bothered."

"Can you move?" Susan asked. Robert shook his head. "Neither can I. You were right. Eating does take your mind off your troubles." Susan let out an unladylike belch. "Sorry."

Robert laughed then belched as well. "You should have said something to Ron."

"We're only supposed to be friends."

"Well, I am going to stand up."

Robert made the effort, and Susan joined him. Both walked carefully to the entrance and stepped into the hallway. As soon as they did, Professor McGonagall's voice was heard throughout the school ordering all students to report to the Great Hall. The two Hufflepuffs turned around, laughing.

* * *

"This is not a matter to be taken lightly," Captain Grissom said.

"Indeed, it is not," Albus Dumbledore told him. "We are taking precautions."

Master Sean interrupted. "Headmaster, both the Captain and I know your precautions are sufficient. There is the matter of trust between our two governments. If we abide by your decision, it will appear that we trust your judgement."

Albus chuckled. "It wouldn't look good if you trusted my judgement. The Minister might want you to trust his judgement as well."

Master Sean nodded. "We know his intentions are honourable, but we do not trust his, um, abilities."

"The Minister does not understand what it is he wants," Albus admitted. What was not said was that Albus did understand. The Minister for Magic was becoming obsessed with the idea of obtaining a control stone. He did not understand that of the myriad worlds he could visit some would not be good, and would not be benign. "What do you wish me to do?"

"I can settle this matter easily," Captain Grissom said, "with your permission, Headmaster."

Albus nodded, and the three stepped from the room into the Great Hall. The students were beginning to settle down in their selected spots. Captain Grissom walked across the Hall to the entrance and turned around. Without using the Sonorus Charm, he still managed to make himself heard clearly.

"ALL OFFICERS WILL REPORT TO THE SHIP, IMMEDIATELY."

As he left, Harry and Robert stood up and walked briskly from the Hall. After a short pause, Colin Creevey quickly followed. Susan noted that all three were still in their uniforms. Then she had a thought. She stood up, looking for Ginny and Ron. She nodded her head toward the door. Ron looked at her, turned to Ginny, then both looked back and nodded. The three of them left as well.

"Why are we going?" Ginny asked as they left the school. "Beside the fact that we want to?"

"While you were talking to Colin," Susan told her, "I was talking to Harry and Robert. Something is going on and I want to see what happens."

"What?" Ginny asked.

"Think about it," Susan said. "They both have to have special classes, and both of them have to wear those uniforms all the time instead of robes. They're trying to keep Harry and Robert separate from the rest of us. This way if something happens they can't blame us."

"They can't thank us either," Ron said.

Susan stopped, then quickly kept walking again. "What do you mean by that?"

"My dad mentioned before school started that the Minister wants to get one of those stones. That's why he let all those people come here, to show them we were being nice. If we keep doing nice things for them, they'll have to give us a stone. Right?"

Susan nodded. Ron had figured something out that she hadn't even thought of. That world, the Empire, didn't want to give away the control stones. That was why there were constant problems. The Empire wanted excuses, even if they had to make them up. Then Susan understood what Ron already knew. They reached the ship and began to board when the Captain blocked their path.

"The three of you have no cause to be here."

"You hit Malfoy on purpose," Susan accused.

Captain Grissom smiled and stepped aside. "Welcome aboard."

* * *

"Would you like to be part of a conspiracy?" Grissom asked, "or do you merely wish to reveal its existence?"

"What kind of conspiracy?" Susan Bones and Ginny Weasley had asked at the same time.

"The simple kind, where no one gets hurt." Captain Grissom paused as Remus Lupin handed out cups of tea to the six students. He took one, thanked the Groundskeeper, and took a sip as he gazed out the porthole. Master Sean had set the wards in place so that no one would even bother to come aboard. "What have you figured out so far?"

Ginny answered. "The Ministry wants one of your stones and you're making excuses so you don't have to give them one."

"Oh," Grissom said in a matter of fact tone. "Then you already know all of it. Are you also aware of the threat we have made to your government? No? Then I shall tell you that. If my government is convinced that your government is unable to protect the Lords Somerset, we will withdraw them, and ourselves, from this world. Permanently."

"It's an effective threat," Remus Lupin said cheerfully. "The Ministry knows that their coming to our world was a bit of luck. The Ministry also knows that they could just as easily go elsewhere." He put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "That makes my nephew the most important person in the world."

Ron was surprised. "They're using Harry?"

Harry smiled. "I have a roll to play, Ron. All I have to do is keep going to school here."

Ron nodded. "You said you were going to stay there, with your family."

"I was ordered to return."

"Ordered?" Ron was surprised, as were Susan and Ginny. "Who ordered you?"

"My Uncle." Harry cast a glance at Ginny. "As King and Emperor, he is also in absolute command of the Army and Navy."

"I thought that part was a joke," Ron admitted. "He's really your uncle?"

Harry and Robert nodded.

"Why don't you leave, then?" Susan asked Captain Grissom. "Wouldn't that solve all of your problems?"

"I do not have that information. I am also here because I was ordered."

"I have that information," Remus Lupin told them. "They can't leave, and I can't tell you why. It is an excellent reason, but I promised that I would not reveal it."

"You promised them," Susan accused.

"I promised Dumbledore," Remus clarified. "This problem is not only their problem but ours as well. You have to believe me. If we went our separate ways at this point, it would be a disaster for both of our worlds."

"What do we have to do?" Ginny asked.

"That is the easy part," Grissom replied. "All you need do is sleep on board this ship tonight."

Ginny looked confused. "We were going to do that anyway?"

"Exactly." Grissom was almost laughing. "But you should know this. When you came to the ship tonight, you made a statement. In a crisis, you chose to stand by our world instead of your own. Others will make note of that."

"We thought it would be more fun to sleep on a ship than in the Great Hall," Ginny admitted.

Robert nodded. "With Malfoy's constant remarks about Dementors, I know I am grateful to be sleeping here."

The Captain held up his hand for quiet. Everyone stopped and listened. The sound of footsteps could be heard on the deck above, tentative footsteps, as though the owner was not sure of what to do. Then the footsteps reached the stair into the hold and everyone watched the figure descend.

"Sorry," Hermione said with embarrassment. "I couldn't decide whether or not to come on board, but . . . my curiosity got the better of me. Should I leave?"

"Not at all," Captain Grissom said. "Would you like some tea, Miss Granger?"

* * *

The sun was shining as Ron stood on deck, looking out over the lake. "It's not much of a conspiracy, is it?"

"Not really," Harry admitted. "It is this way. We have to stay in contact but we do not want the Ministry to know that. That is the secret you are keeping."

"We? Harry, isn't this your world?"

Harry frowned. "It was. Do you remember the Mirror of Erised? I have my deepest, darkest desire. I have a family."

"Shouldn't you be happier when you say that?"

"Yes. I should. But being part of my family means having responsibilities. Sometimes it is hard, even when it seems easy."

Ron nodded. Somehow, he understood how his friend felt. "Are you hungry? They should still be serving breakfast?"

Harry shook his head. Lunch wasn't that far away. He could wait.

* * *

Master Sean O'Lochlainn listened in amazement as Captain Grissom related the tale of his late night visitor. "I am truly amazed. It must have taken a great deal of concentration for her to pass the wards. And she had no idea of what she had done?"

"None at all," Grissom admitted.

Master Sean smiled. He would make it a point to talk to the girl, Hermione Granger, over the Christmas holiday.

* * *

Ginny looked Hermione in the eye. "Are you really going to marry Robert?"

Hermione laughed. "I'm thirteen. I'm not going to marry anyone. What made you think that?"

"Harry told us what it means to be a 'close friend'."

"And Robert knows that I refuse to commit myself, for a few years. Besides, he's a lord. He can't marry me. He has," she added in a haughty voice, "obligations."

Both girls laughed.

* * *

Master Sean called the class to order. He motioned for Remus Lupin to step forward, then addressed the third year Gryffindors.

"I have tried to explain the differences between our two worlds when it comes to casting spells. With Groundskeeper Lupin's help I will give all of you a practical demonstration. How many of you have tried to cast a protective spell?" Hermione was the only one to raise her hand. "And how many of you have seen a protective spell being cast?"

More students raised their hands. Master Sean nodded, then went to one side of the desk while Remus stood at the other side. Remus held five Sickle coins in his hand to show the class. He placed them in a stack on the edge of the desk, clearly visible, and pulled out his wand. In short order, he cast his spell.

The students murmured their approval of Lupin's skill, then turned to Master Sean to find out what would happen next.

"Oh, are you finished?" Master Sean asked in mock surprise. "That was very quick. My spell will take a little longer and," he added in a sad voice, "I'd already done my preparations."

The students politely laughed, then watched as the tubby Irishman stood and recited a long incantation in old Latin over a steaming cauldron, all the time casting various powders into it. As he neared the end, he reached into his pocket and pulled out at least ten Galleons, setting them down in a neat pile on the edge of the desk near to him.

"I have finished," Master Sean said two minutes later. "Now, who would like some free money?" Every student raised their hand. "You can have either pile of coins. All you have to do is take them."

At once, Seamus Finnigan was out of his seat, his wand out. He made a couple of attempts to cancel Remus Lupin's spell but to no avail. Lavender Brown insisted he let her try, and Pavarti Patil was ready to try once she was done. After the third student tried to cancel Remus's spell, and failed, Master Sean spoke up.

"No one has tried to take my pile of coins. I am wealthy, so do not fear that I will become destitute. Miss Brown, would you like to try?"

Lavender Brown looked at the stack of gold coins and shook her head apathetically. "Not really. It doesn't seem worth it."

"Ten Galleons is not worth an effort? But five Sickles is worth several attempts?" Master Sean shook his head. "Your world must not value money."

"We do," Lavender said, "but . . . "

"That's it," Hermione said suddenly. "Master Sean, your spell makes us not want the money. Remus Lupin's spell only stops us from taking it."

"Congratulations, Miss Granger. My assistant's spell affects the physical effort to take the proffered coins. My spell affects the mental effort. No one is trying to take my coins because they do not want to." He smiled as the students suddenly turned to look at his pile of coins, although they still did not make any effort. Nor did they stare for long. "Miss Granger, would you care to try."

Hermione nodded and walked up to the desk, and walked past the stack of Galleons before she realized what she had done. She turned around and did it again. Then she stopped and slowly turned around to face the coins. Her eyes seemed to slide away every time she tried to look directly at them. As a last resort, she deliberately looked away while trying to feel for the coins with her hand. She came close but then seemed to forget what she was doing. Finally, she was forced to stop.

Like everyone else in the class, Harry was watching Hermione's actions with humor. When he saw Hermione look away, he remembered the time he closed his eyes against a spell, although with better success. That was when he paused and began to think. As Hermione sat down in frustration, Harry raised his hand.

"Master Sean."

"Harry, do you wish to try."

"I could if you like, but I understand the spell. I have had experience with it before in a different form." Harry, at the professor's prompting, related the incident on board the Hermes and what happened when he closed his eyes.

"That is not the same type of spell," Master Sean pointed out.

"It is not," Harry agreed, "but thinking about that incident led me to understand why your spell was familiar. I came across it near the end of my first year, when I faced," Harry paused, as though trying to decide, "When I faced Voldemort and kept him from taking the Philosopher's Stone." Harry continued, knowing he had everyone's interest, including the adults. "Professor Dumbledore hid the stone inside a mirror. It would only give the stone to someone who wanted it, but did not want to use it. And that is what your spell does. Anyone can take the money, as long as they truly do not want it."

"Then you see the humor in the spell." Master Sean was grinning.

Harry nodded, with a grin of his own. "Anyone who does not want the money will not bother to take it."

"There is one exception, of course." Master Sean reached over and picked up the gold coins. "I can take them because they belong to me. And I will prove the point." He pointed to show that one Galleon was still on the desk. "Miss Granger, for making an effort, this coin is yours."

Hermione, with no little surprise, realized she could look at the coin without difficulty but that the others were still looking elsewhere. She stood up and walked to the desk and easily picked up the coin. "Thank you." She then returned to her seat with everyone watching her.

* * *

It was Saturday. Gryffindor against Hufflepuff in the first Quidditch match of the year. After last year's game being cancelled, making this the first match was almost a necessity. Harry was on his broom waiting for the whistle, wishing only that the rain or the cold would stop. He looked over to Robert and smiled. Robert nodded and mouthed, "Good Luck." Then Madam Hooch blew the whistle, lightning flashed across the sky, and the game began.

Gryffindor were aggressive and their chasers had the quaffle for the first part of the game. It kept Robert busy, and he did let his brother's team get a small lead. Then the tables were turned and Oliver Wood had his hands full. Oliver did a better job than Robert, but it was so hard to see that Robert couldn't tell. Suddenly the whistle blew, and Cedric flew by, saying to follow him. They landed in the mud and took some shelter with the rest of the team.

"Wood called a time out," Cedric told them. "I think he hates the weather as much as I do."

Eleanor Branston couldn't help herself. "Cedric, just catch the snitch and we can all leave."

"I should have thought of that," Cedric said jokingly.

"How are we doing?" Robert asked. "I know they scored at least three times before I was even aware of it."

"We're down by fifty points," Cedric told him, "but don't worry about it."

"My glasses," Robert complained. "With all the rain, I can not see a thing."

"I'll take care of that," Hermione said as she suddenly appeared out of the shadows. "I did this for Harry, and I told Oliver Wood I had to be fair." She pointed her wand at Robert's glasses and shouted, "Impervius!"

Robert was amazed as the glasses immediately began to repel the water. He gave Hermione a quick thank you as the whistle blew and the game continued. The spell worked wonders, and Robert had no more surprises. He managed to block the quaffle every time it came his way, but he noticed Oliver Wood was doing as well as he was. Then Robert saw it. The Snitch. And Cedric was chasing after it. He saw Cedric fly past Harry and Harry turned to follow but Cedric clearly had the edge.

Suddenly, Robert felt a shudder pass though him, but not from the cold. (Afterwards he was told it was the result of his attacking the dementor on the train. It made him more sensitive to their presence.) He looked down and saw them. Dementors were filling the pitch. As he stared, he saw Harry waver in his flight, and fall.

Cedric, at that moment, caught the snitch and held it up, but he saw Robert racing toward the ground. He saw the dementors as well, and Harry falling to the ground in their midst. Before Cedric could shake off his surprise, Dumbledore was there, waving Robert away, and casting a spell which caused the foul creatures to scatter.

Cedric flew down and cornered Oliver Wood.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Dumbledore has it in hand," Wood told him, pointing to the stretcher that was now carrying Harry.

"I didn't know what happened," Cedric told him. "We need to call the game. We'll have a rematch."

Oliver smiled at the offer. He didn't want the loss but he had to do the right thing. "You caught it fair, Diggory. You already had the lead on our Seeker. The match is yours."

Cedric nodded. He would still talk to Madam Hooch.

"Robert," he called out to the Hufflepuff Keeper who was standing there with a look of disbelief. "He'll be fine," Cedric told the boy and put his arm around his shoulder. Carefully giving Robert constant reassurances, he led him back to the school. Harry had a bad fall and would be in the infirmary, but Robert had a bad shock. To Cedric's credit he thought of Father Maurice, the new school counselor. Father Maurice was a friend of the family as well and would know best how to help Robert.


	25. Career Choices

Chapter Twenty Five: Career Choices

Robert was sitting in the common room, drinking another cup of tea, when Ernie MacMillan walked in. Robert jumped up in surprise and then noticed Owen was with him.

"I know how, but why? With this weather . . ."

"I had to see this match," Ernie told him. "We never saw the two of you play against each other, if you remember."

Owen smiled. "After Lord MontClaire told me about Quidditch, I felt I deserved a reward for protecting his secret. Fortunately, Professor Quirrell agreed." He and Robert hugged each other in greeting. "I would have preferred a different ending. I was warned about the abominations."

"They are called Dementors," Robert told him.

"They are Abominations," Owen answered firmly. "I care not what others call them."

Robert met his glare with firmness of his own. "I can not and will not fault you. I think you have chosen a more accurate term for those creatures."

After a moment of silence, Ernie spoke. "Lord Henry is fine. He was already awake when we stopped to see him. He will be ready to travel soon."

"Travel?" Robert asked.

"You are to return with us," Owen informed him. "The order has already been given. Professor Quirrell is in conference with the headmaster as we speak. Master Sorcerer Sean O'Lochlainn and Captain Grissom are with him."

Robert nodded. It was what he should have expected. This was the second time that the creatures had attacked his brother. A third attempt would not be permitted.

Robert showed Ernie and Owen the teapot and offered them something to drink. They then talked of happier things. Ernie related how he was handling his new life, and several of the Hufflepuffs in the common room gathered to listen in and ask questions. He was doing well in his classes, and had become popular on the field when they played football. Owen shared a few stories but would fall silent at certain points. Robert was finally tempted to ask the reason when Professor Quirrell appeared at the entrance, and revealed what that reason was.

"My Lords, O'Connell, I hope all of you are well."

Robert started. Owen had been called O'Connell. Only the Chief of the Clan was given that title. Until that moment, Robert had thought that to be Owen's father. Owen noticed his friend's reaction.

"Father took a fall when he was riding the hunt. He remounted. He claimed he was fine but he was not. When he fell the second time, he was already dead."

"When did you find out?" Robert asked.

"I was there," Owen answered. "As did the others, I believed him when he told me he was not hurt."

Robert hung his head. "O'Connell, the House of Somerset mourns the passing of a great man. Know also that the House of Somerset rejoices that the Red Hand still holds sway in Ulster and may it always do so."

"The Clan of O'Connell is grateful that it has such capable friends in the House of Somerset."

"Amen," echoed a handful of voices.

Professor Quirrell excused himself for making the unintentional revelation, then turned to more immediate matters. "Lieutenant Lord Robert Somerset. I am ordered by His Sovereign Majesty to direct you to prepare yourself to leave this place."

"I am ready, Grand Master, to do anything required of me."

Professor Quirrell nodded in relief. "Now that the formalities are over, I could use something hot to drink. Is there more tea?"

"Robert," one of the fourth year Hufflepuffs asked. "What was all that?"

"Yeah," Megan Jones added. "Why all the fancy language?"

Owen answered before Robert could. "I swear by all I hold, everyone here acts as though they rule in Ulster."

Ernie told him he was right, and Owen broke out in laughter while everyone stared.

"Um, Robert?" Megan asked.

Robert paused before he answered. "It is this way." He started to say 'Owen' but caught himself. "O'Connell rules in Ulster. He told me he had only recently attained his rank. I was congratulating him on achieving that rank while expressing my regret on how he obtained it. Do you see?"

Ernie smirked at Megan's blank stare, which was echoed by several others. "Robert was telling O'Connell he was sorry to hear that his father died. Because of their ranks, Robert had to do so formally."

"And the rest of it?"

Robert answered. "His Majesty did not appreciate the attack on my brother. Harry and I have to go home until the matter is settled."

"You're leaving? For how long?"

Robert shrugged his shoulders. "To be honest, after what happened today, we may never return."

* * *

It was late when Harry and Robert arrived at the house of their brother, the Marquis of London. Despite his protests, Harry was immediately put to bed. As he sat there, the housekeeper, Charity, placed a tray on his night table. It had several pieces of chocolate on it as well as a steaming cup.

"You are to eat all of this, My Lord. And if you are thirsty, there is hot chocolate to drink. Everyone wishes you to be in the best of health."

"Charity?"

"We know, My Lord. Until today we were not to let you know, least you relax your vigilance. Lord Bontriomphe has told the staff about what happened."

"Lord London, does he know?"

Charity laughed lightly. "He was not to know but he had already found out." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "I should warn you, My Lord, he has more of his father in him than yourself and Lord Robert together."

Harry smiled his thanks and Charity left him. After the door closed behind him, he took a piece of chocolate and began to eat it. Despite all that he had been given, it still made him feel better. He smiled, and looked toward his closet.

"You can come out, Roger."

The door opened, and the eight-year-old sheepishly stepped into the bedroom proper. He was wearing his nightshirt and robe, but his feet were bare so that he could walk quietly. "How did you know I was there."

"I heard the creak when you opened the door to the secret passage."

Roger frowned. "It should not have been that loud." He sat down on the bed. "Is that really your medicine?"

Harry kept himself from laughing. "It is. And I need to eat all of it."

"Is your illness contagious?" Roger looked hopefully at the tray.

"I do not think it is," Harry said, grinning as Roger frowned again. "But perhaps it would be best to be safe. You should take a piece, just in case."

Roger happily grabbed some chocolate from the tray. "Will you be staying?"

"Robert and I have duties. I do not know."

There was a knock, then Charity opened the door. "Lord London, it is time for you to be in bed, as you well know."

Roger slumped off the bed and walked toward her. He knew she would not let him sneak out of his room a second time.

* * *

"May I ask why we are going to Naval Intelligence?" Robert asked as he refilled his glass with juice.

Lord Bontriomphe looked up from his breakfast. "To continue your classes. I thought that was obvious. You should find this course of study interesting. You will learn how to analyze information and then how best to act upon it. It might please you to know that both of you will continue to live here until the end of the course, although it will only be for six weeks. Could you survive that?"

"Easily," Robert said cheerfully.

"Good. Then you get to tell Lord Henry. Charity has agreed to let him out of bed once he is done eating."

Robert finished his breakfast quickly. He and Harry would have little time once classes began, and there were so many things he wanted to show his brother. As he excused himself he was told to wait.

"We need to talk. Master Sean O'Lochlainn has seen to it that your wands have been brought here. There are other lessons you are to take as well. Your teacher will be coming from the Hogwarts school on a regular basis, and directly to this house."

"Uncle Remus? Sorry, My Lord. Do you mean Remus Lupin?"

Lord Bontriomphe smiled. "I see Master Sean has discussed the matter with you. I would encourage you and your brother to learn your lessons with expediency. Everyone wants you proficient in the defensive spell for when you return to Hogwarts."

"We are returning? When?"

"After the new year. We dare not risk having you away for too long."

"My Lord Bontriomphe. That was a most unusual statement. May I ask why there is a risk?"

"How much do you know about Prophecy, in the other world?"

Robert grinned. "We have a teacher, Professor Trelawney, who teaches Divination. I must tell you that she is not highly thought of."

"But she does have the gift, although it comes rarely." Lord Bontriomphe was not smiling. "She spoke a prophecy concerning Lord Henry and his adversary, the false lord Voldemort. They are destined to fight each other. We have to keep your brother in contact with the other world or risk Voldemort learning how to move between the planes."

Robert nodded, then saw the puzzle. "If I may ask, My Lord, if you know it is dangerous for my brother to be in this world, then why was he brought here, and why is he staying?"

Lord Bontriomphe took a deep breath. "First you must understand, Lord Robert, you are forbidden to mention any of what I tell you to anyone, especially to Lord Henry. Do you understand?"

"Yes, My Lord."

"Then know this. There are reasons why contact with this world is important to the Empire. They concern our means of travel between worlds. At this point, we can not risk permanent separation. Because we must be there, His Majesty has agreed to let us take steps to keep your brother with us. If conditions permit, it will be permanent. This you must know and accept. If we have the opportunity to sever our ties with the other world, and we have not resolved this prophecy, then Lord Henry will be left behind."

Robert nodded. "How much time do we have?"

"As of now, it is open-ended. There are questions our researchers must first find the answers to. And some of these answers the wizards do not even know."

"I will stay with him, if it comes to that," Robert said firmly.

"And leave Lord London all alone?" Lord Bontriomphe saw Robert waver. "You know you will stay here. Your duty is here." Robert nodded. "And that is the only reason I have informed certain people of Hermione Granger. I will force the issue in your favour if that will convince you that you must stay."

"I understand, My Lord. That will not be necessary. I will do what I must." And Robert would. He and Harry were only a small part in the machinations of the Empire. If what was best for the Empire was that they be separated, it would be done. All that had happened so far was done because it helped the Empire. Harry was a useful tool, and if he could be rewarded for this it was all well and good. But Robert was forced to agree. The survival of the Anglo-French Empire must always be considered first.

* * *

It was supposed to be time for his Naval class, and Colin Creevey walked down to the frigate on the shore of the lake. The gangplank had been withdrawn, and the ship was empty. Captain Grissom would not be returning. It was a foolish idea, Colin thought as he stood there. He was still a child in everyone's eyes. Soon someone would see him and tell him to put his uniform away, that playtime was over. He had thought, for a moment, that he had found something he could hold on to, but it was only a fantasy. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the shilling coin. He looked at it once more and then threw it so it landed on the deck of the ship. They could take the coin back when they came for the frigate. He turned around and walked back to the school.

As he passed through the main doors, Father Maurice was standing there.

"All dressed up and no place to go. Is that the phrase?" Father Maurice's voice showed sympathy, and not ridicule.

"They went away and forgot about me," Colin said with little hope.

"It has only been two days."

"Everyone left. They forgot about . . . " Colin's voice trailed off.

"I did not leave. Master Sean did not leave." Father Maurice paused, then dropped to one knee. "What did they forget about?"

"Me." The word was barely a whisper.

"Really?" Father Maurice's voice held a firmness to it. "Perhaps you should have reminded them. What were they supposed to remember?"

"Nothing." Colin walked past the priest and returned to Gryffindor Tower. He put his uniform away with regret and changed back into his school robes.

* * *

Captain Grissom stood before the Lord High Admiral. "I make this request as a matter of duty."

"You have been relieved of your charges, Captain, and you are free to return to your command."

"I still have four charges, Sir. My duties overlap. I owe them something."

The Lord High Admiral frowned. "And what of the dangers?"

"There are always dangers," Grissom answered. "Even when I take the Hermes out without an escort ship. It is a fact that Lord Henry Somerset still does not know about."

"There is a great deal that Lieutenant Somerset does not know." The Admiral frowned. Captain Grissom was presenting him with a dilemma. How does the Navy honour a commitment when it is forbidden to do so? By his own order the classes were not to continue unless and until the two charges were returned. "These four students. How would you rate them?"

Grissom frowned in thought. "The two girls, I am told, accept what happened. The older boy, I could not be sure how he reacted to the news of no more classes. He is more concerned with his friend then with any school work."

"The Weasley boy. I was told about him. He is close to Lord Henry. And the younger boy?"

"Father Maurice Pannier noticed him in uniform standing before the ship. He saw the boy throw something and went to investigate. He found this on the deck." Grissom showed the Admiral the coin.

The Lord High Admiral nodded. "It is curious. The boy clearly feels betrayed."

"His life has never been easy," Grissom explained. "He was always the odd one. Even at the school he never found his place. Unwittingly, we gave him a hand hold, and now we have let him go."

"You are making this a personal issue, Peter," the Lord High Admiral contended.

"I am, Val," Captain Grissom admitted. "I feel that I am the one who betrayed him. I know what that feeling is like, even when it is not justified."

"And it is not, in either case, as you clearly understand." The Admiral sighed. "Damn you, Peter. You would not let it be. Now I have that feeling as well." He pulled out a piece of paper and began writing. "You will have to do this according to their rules. Both parents must agree, the boy must agree and, before you do anything, the headmaster, Dumbledore, must agree. If he does not support this then I trust his judgement that it would be best not to pursue the matter."

Peter de Valera ap Smith, Lord High Admiral, put his seal and signature to the parchment and handed it to Captain Grissom. The Captain saluted. He knew his timetable and his next stop would be London House, where a private tutor would be arriving. The tutor would have company when he returned.

* * *

Professor McGonagall dismissed the students from the Gryffindor common room. She now had the list of everyone in her house who would be staying for the holidays. As the students left, she called out to a sullen blond haired boy, a second year.

"Mister Creevey, I must insist that you wait here."

Colin sat back down, and was gratified that Ron Weasley waited with him. They made a pair of unlikely friends, but they were friends. Both stared in surprise when Captain Grissom walked through the entrance way.

"You are out of uniform." Grissom's voice was neither commanding nor consoling.

"The class was cancelled," Colin pointed out, letting his resentment show.

"It was necessary." It was a simple statement. The Captain walked up to the table where the boy was sitting. "I was ordered to leave."

Ron sensed his friend's mood and asked the question for him. "Then why did you come back?"

Grissom arched an eyebrow. "I thought that was obvious. I returned because I was ordered to." He grinned when Ron and Colin frowned at his facetious answer. "Mister Weasley, I am required to ask your friend two questions." He paused. "Perhaps I should ask you as well."

Both boys were looking at the Captain with interest.

"The first question is this. Do either or both of you wish to continue with your education? The classes will resume when the Somerset twins return."

"I did," Colin answered sullenly.

"It was fun," Ron said.

Grissom nodded. "Then I shall ask my second question. Are either or both of you willing to make the commitment required?"

"Commitment?" Ron asked.

"To make this a career."

Ron snorted. "You're joking."

"You will eventually have to make a choice, whether or not to give up the practice of magic. To answer your question directly, I am not joking."

"Sorry, Captain," Ron told him. "I'm not giving up magic just to sail a ship."

"I understand, Weasley. If I had any talent, I would be severely tempted to give up the sea. Creevey, do you agree with your friend?"

Colin looked up in surprise. "Could I ask a question? What did you mean by eventually?"

Grissom glanced at McGonagall then turned back to the two boys. "This is not to be repeated. Do you understand?" Both boys nodded. "There will come a time when we will break contact with your world. When that happens, assuming that you make the commitment, you will have to decide which world you will live in. Weasley, you have already said that you will not give up magic. Your answer is obvious. Creevey, you have not said."

Silence filled the room. Colin was filled with surprise. Grissom was not being nice, not that he wasn't doing a favor for a small boy. Colin was being told he needed to make a choice. He frowned when he realized it was an odd choice. He was only being asked to consider giving up magic.

For Colin Creevey, magic was not the wonder it seemed to most muggle born children. On the other hand, most muggle born children did not discover a strange boy, near death, during their first week at school. Nor did most of them become petrified for six months. On the one hand, Magic was now a fearsome thing, not to be taken lightly.

When he first learned that he was a wizard, Colin was ecstatic. It explained so many of the confusing things that had happened to him. It also showed him that he was not alone. That was what made magic wonderful. He would be going to a school where he would be considered normal. He finally had a chance to make real friends. And he made his first friend, not out of shared interest but of shared tragedy. A box in a trunk in the second year dorm still held a roll of film which would never be developed because of one picture that it held. Then Colin met the basilisk, and his life was altered. He was different once again. He did not really fit in, again.

Now, he was given another chance. He would stand out. He would still be different. But this time it would be because of a reason, a choice to be different. And he would be different as part of a group that chose to be different. In the midst of all of this, he was also being given a favor. If it turned out that this choice was wrong, all he had to do was admit it. To Colin this was a precious gift: to choose to belong.

Colin spoke slowly, trying to make the words come out correctly. "I would be willing to consider giving up magic."

Captain Grissom smiled. "If that is the case, I need to tell you this. You are out of uniform."

Colin returned the smile. "I'm sorry, Sir. I'll correct that immediately."

"Excuse me," Professor McGonagall said casually, as though this moment was not planned. "Colin, I believe you dropped this." She held out the shilling coin that the boy had thrown away.

"Thank you, Professor." Colin took the coin and held it firmly in his hand.

Grissom cleared his throat. He was holding out a parchment. "These are your orders, Sub-Lieutenant Creevey. Arrangements will be made for your transportation to the training ship."

"What?" Ron asked in surprise. "What training ship?"

Grissom gave a surprised look. "I thought Harry told you about his training." He then added in a prompting tone, "When we were declared lost at sea?"

"Yeah, but . . ."

"I thought Colin would accept a three day cruise as compensation for the classes he missed. He will have to wear his uniform from now on, but there are compensations."

* * *

"What compensations?" Ginny asked, after the two boys told her what happened.

Colin flipped the shilling coin in the air and caught it, then said in a cavalier voice, "For one, I'm now being paid."

* * *

Captain Peter Grissom sat back in his chair and relaxed. It was a long trip, but he was happy to be home. Seaman Davers had given him the log so that he could read what he had missed but that could wait. He gave himself the luxury of a glass of scotch, and sipped it gingerly as he looked out over the Channel at the night sky. He had done something good for a young boy, and he felt good about it.

Suddenly, a memory returned and the years seemed to slip away. He remembered the day clearly. He was sixteen years old, newly ranked, and he had been transferred to his first dreadnaught. Young Peter Grissom was anxious that day and he reported for duty two hours before he was scheduled. The Captain was impressed by his eagerness and called him aboard. As a result, he was the first of the new officers to report and he became Sixth Lieutenant instead of Eighth Lieutenant. It was a small thing and made no difference as to his duties, but Peter was proud of that minor feat.

The Captain, Lord James Cavanaugh, saw his reaction and told him, "Peter, don't ever grow up. The first thing you lose is your immortality. In exchange you get the knowledge that nothing lasts forever."

The next day, the HRMS Bristol would leave port to spend four months patrolling the Baltic.


	26. Christmas

Chapter Twenty Six: Christmas

Roger de Somerset, Marquis of London, waited impatiently for the guests to arrive. It was Christmas Eve morning and he ignored the efforts of everyone to distract him and insisted on spending the time outside, with a clear view of the road leading to family estate north of the city of London. He was eight years old, and it would be the first Christmas Party that he would give. His brothers, Robert and Harry, were busy inside, helping with the last minute decorations.

For Harry, everything was thrilling. For him, it would be his first real Christmas. It would be his first Christmas with his family. No task was too menial for him to help with, and the servants gave up trying to remind him of his place. They settled for giving him the least messy chores, until someone suggested decorating the guest bedrooms. Lord Henry Somerset was finally out of the way, so they could finish their preparations.

Harry had finished the task assigned him with the help of Gwilliam, the stableman's son, and was trying to find something else to do, with Gwilliam trying to distract him, when Roger's shout was heard from outside. The first coach was approaching.

* * *

Ron Weasley had the advantage over Hermione Granger. While she had chanced to visit the Empire, Ron had met a fair number of the people he saw. It was almost funny that he was pointing them out to her. Both of them stumbled frequently on how to address the other guests. Hermione did have one humorous moment. She met Harry's cousin, Thomas Dudley, a familiar looking blond haired boy, who assured her that he was also a nobody.

Colin Creevey, in uniform, also had an advantage. In Imperial Society, an officer in uniform held a position. He was able to avoid some of the embarrassment of not knowing how to act. Also, he had people he could talk to. Lieutenant Sir Benjamin Farley was there, as was another classmate of Harry's, Nathan Brennan, third mate on the HRMS Victorious. But Colin ended up spending most of his time with a friend of Robert's, a black-haired boy the same age, named Derek.

At one point, Hermione embarrassed herself by calling the Duke of Cambridge 'Sir'. While the Duke laughed, it was obvious that she had done the wrong thing. She took the chance to excuse herself and, unnoticed, grabbed her cloak and went outside. It was snowing lightly. Nothing to worry about but pretty to look at. She found a secluded bench in the garden and sat there, warm enough wrapped in the heavy cloak, but happy to be alone.

"I'm supposed to be smarter than that," she said to herself. "Even Ron didn't make a mistake that big."

"Ron has the advantage, I suppose," a voice said from behind her. A red-haired boy, her age, walked into her view.

"I'm sorry. I thought I was alone."

"You were," The boy replied. "When you did not return, I told Robert I would find you. The snow made it an easy task." The boy bowed lightly. "I am O'Connell, Hermione Granger. I did not have the chance to introduce myself."

Hermione looked at the boy. "Do I call you Lord something?" She added in a self-depreciating tone, "I need to ask things like that."

"Then you should ask. That was your mistake. There is no insult to admit you do not know something. The insult is to pretend you know something then prove you do not. People will think you a lacker. And no. I am not called Lord. I am O'Connell."

Hermione was surprised by his matter of fact tone. "Why are you O'Connell? I mean, why don't you have a title?"

O'Connell smiled. "Are you interested in History?" He sat down next to Hermione, unmindful of the cold or the snow. "I am one of three that rule in Ulster. We are by tradition the Chiefs of our Clans. Thus, our names are the names of the Clans. O'Connell, O'Naill, Maguire. By Royal Writ, we stand as equals to Plantagenet, which is how we refer to the King. Should I explain why?"

"I'll borrow a history book," Hermione said. "It sounds like a long story."

"As you wish," O'Connell said. "I could ease you out of your embarrassment." He gave her a smile that reminded her of the Weasley twins.

"How will you do that?"

"Return with me to the party. It will soon be time for dinner. I will introduce you to some of those you have not yet met."

"That will help. I thought I wouldn't have any problems, but that was before I started talking to people."

O'Connell laughed. "It always seems easy, but look at this family. Roger Somerset is Marquis of London. You would call him My Lord Marquis or Lord London. Nor would you ever use his Christian name or his surname. Harry is easier, almost. He has no title so he would always be Lord Henry Somerset or My Lord Henry. You would always use his Christian name unless you address him as an officer. He would then be called Sir, or addressed as Lieutenant Somerset. You would refer to him as Lieutenant Lord Henry Somerset to distinguish him from his brother. Do you follow?"

Hermione laughed. "You are right. It seemed easy."

"Now let me explain Robert. He, like Harry, is an officer and without title, but he has been designated as heir to the Duke of Cambridge. Here, because he has a title pending, he would be called Lord Somerset. You would never use his Christian name, only his surname. Unless, of course, you were referring to him as an officer, and you needed to distinguish him from his brother."

Hermione nodded. "But what if Harry was made an heir to someone. How would you tell them apart?"

"Easily enough. Robert would then become Lord Somerset of Cambridge. And Harry would become Lord Somerset of whatever fief he was heir to."

"No wonder I floundered," Hermione said with a grin. "I should be grateful for your help."

O'Connell held out his hand. "Shall we go inside and try again?"

"I'm afraid I'll make a fool of myself again."

"You could take the path of Robert's cousin. Because he has no title or rank, he spends most of his time in the kitchens. There, he can talk to people who are his equals."

"I'm supposed to be Robert's 'close friend'. I don't think I could hide in the kitchen."

"Then I will make it easy for you. Always call me Owen."

Hermione was perplexed. "Now you have to explain how that will help."

"No. I do not," Owen said with a grin. "I have to lend you a history book. But it is this way. Only an intimate of O'Connell, me, would dare to use my Christian name. That, in turn, excuses you from having to know the titles of others, at least while you are with me."

Hermione returned his look of amusement. "And how are we intimate?"

Owen gave her a surprised look, then returned to his grin. "You are the close friend to my cousin, Lord Robert Somerset."

"You're his cousin?"

Owen openly laughed. "No. I am not. And that would take too long to explain. You will have to trust me."

O'Connell stood up and held out his hand. Hermione took it, and he led her back to the mansion. Once inside, a servant took her cloak, and they walked into the ballroom. "Have you met these people?" He whispered, and nodded toward a young couple with two young girls. They casually walked over, O'Connell still holding her hand.

"Hermione."

"Uh, Owen."

The couple noted the use of first names, and their expressions changed from polite condescension, to one of expectation.

"May I introduce you to Captain at Arms, Sir Mortimer Sheffield, Lady Sheffield, and their two daughters whose names I have not been permitted to know. Sir Mortimer Sheffield, may I present Hermione Granger."

"The pleasure is mine," Sir Mortimer paused, "Hermione."

"And mine," Lady Sheffield said. "And may I present my daughters, Beatrice and Janice." She directed Hermione to a girl her own age who was talking to Ron, of all people. "That is our eldest daughter, Caroline. I believe she is talking to a friend of yours?"

"Yes Ma'am," Hermione said, then immediately blushed with embarrassment. Beatrice and Janice laughed into their hands as Lady Sheffield reassures Hermione. "You are easily forgiven. The influence of O'Connell is well known."

Hermione looked up, grateful for the kind words, and was surprised when Sir Mortimer gave her a wink. She quickly realized that he knew where she came from, and his wife did not.

"Forgive me, Lady Sheffield," Hermione said carefully. "This is my first time . . ."

Lady Sheffield smiled warmly. "Nobility can be overwhelming. I dare not vouch for the men, but if in doubt address any woman as My Lady, and do not worry about the finer points."

Hermione smiled gratefully. "Thank you, My Lady. It does help to know that."

"You are a friend of Lord Henry, from before?"

"Yes, My Lady ."

"Master Sean O'Lochlainn mentioned you," Sir Mortimer interrupted. "Dearest, this young lady has some degree of talent and has been attending Master Sean's lecture."

"So, you are the one," Lady Sheffield said as she carefully removed Hermione's hand from O'Connell's arm. "Perhaps it would help if you had an adult introduce you. O'Connell is well meaning, but he is young."

The next hour before dinner was more of a class exercise for Hermione than an informal gathering. She loved it.

* * *

Hermione stared at the array of silverware on the table in front of her. She looked in confusion at Robert sitting next to her, and he smiled.

"Robert, I'm tired of making mistakes. What do I do with five forks?"

"What an interesting question," Robert replied. "I thought to ask Colin if he knew about place settings. Do you know what his answer was? He said yes, he remembered the Titanic."

"Thank you," Hermione said, and gave him a bemused look.

There was a movie of that name the year Hermione received her letter. After the excitement of the letter was over with, her parents took her to the cinema to see that very movie. There was a scene where the hero, Jack, was at a fancy dinner, and Molly Brown pointed to the silverware and said, "Just start on the outside and work your way in." Hermione would make it a point to explain this to Robert later, and they would make arrangements to see the film together.

* * *

"Your friend Ronald is most amusing, Lord Henry," Caroline Sheffield said to her designated dinner partner.

"He has an active imagination," Harry answered carefully.

"I did not know that," Caroline replied, with a coy look in her eyes.

Harry paused as the servant ladled his soup. "Um, what did you talk about?"

"Quidditch," Caroline whispered, and covered her smile as Harry coughed on his soup.

"I apologize," He said when he could speak. "It was hotter than I expected." He turned to Caroline casually and said, "Did he really?"

"To be honest, he was surprised that I did not know about it," Caroline said. She smiled ingenuously. "Perhaps we can discuss that matter later." She raised her voice to a normal tone. "Are you stationed in London permanently, Lord Henry?"

"I am not to be stationed here after the New Year, although I have not been informed of my new post. Calais has been mentioned."

"I am fresh from Calais," Nathan Brennan said from across the table. "It is not a difficult post."

Janice Sheffield, who was permitted to partner Nathan, interjected. "Father says that Calais is the worst of the lot in Navy life. It is all physical labour by day and book work by night."

"That is true," Nathan said. "Each evening they would tell us how to do something, and the next morning we would board a ship and do it. I can brag that I am an excellent carpenter."

Harry's eyes glossed as he thought about being on a ship and actually doing something. "It sounds wonderful."

Caroline laughed as Janice frowned. "Sister, remember never to marry a Navy man. Look to the Army, as Father says."

"Only to the boys who come by to call on you," Janice retorted.

* * *

"It is this way," Owen explained to Hermione. "Everyone knows that you are a close friend to Robert. You do understand what that means?"

Hermione nodded. "It means that I can expect him to ask me to marry him once we're old enough."

"Not quite." Owen grinned. "You are hopelessly ignorant, Hermione. It means that Robert has asked you to marry him, and that you have said yes. When you are older and certain matters have been, um, finessed, you can expect him to set the date."

The small group that had been listening waited for Hermione's reaction to her recent blunder. They were a sympathetic group and would accept almost any reaction, but they were surprised by her reply.

"That may be what it normally means, Owen, but I told Robert not to even consider it until these 'certain matters' were finessed as you would say. Once that happens, he'll ask me again." She paused. "And then I will decide. After all, I'm not a complete idiot."

Robert smirked. "I will admit, O'Connell, she has you to rights on that."

Mary, Lady Darcy, the former Dowager Duchess of Carlisle, watched the scene from her table nearby. "The young lady has gone from making every mistake possible to holding her own in a crowded room. Is this your doing?"

Lord Darcy followed his wife's gaze. "Look to O'Connell. He would devour the girl if he could. He found Miss Granger floundering in water over her head, and gave her a liferope. He seems to dote on the girl."

"Poor O'Connell." Lady Darcy gave the table one final glance. "He will do anything to make her happy, even keep his feelings secret."

"I would not worry," Master Sean O'Lochlainn said from her other side. "Love is fickle at that age. O'Connell will live."

* * *

Lord Bontriomphe arose from the head table. He began by saluting the guests, beginning with the Duke of Lancaster, the younger son of His August Majesty. The eight-year-old boy raised his glass in thanks as did Lord London, the boy next to him. This was a happy moment for Lord Bontriomphe. For three hours as the guests arrived and for the two hours plus of the dinner, he had been forced to babysit two children who outranked him. His duties were almost over.

Father Maurice Pannier was asked to give a parting blessing and prayer, and everyone rose as he spoke. He concluded the prayer by raising his own glass, which had been hastily refilled. "May God Bless Everyone This Day." The room was filled with a chorus of "Amen" and the guests drank a final toast. The dinner was over.

The sun was still high enough and those guests returning to London would have little difficulty. The Duke of Lancaster was the first to depart. He had to return to the Tower and begin his own preparations for Christmas Day. Other guests left as well.

Before he left, Lieutenant Sir Benjamin Farley forced Harry to agree to spend Easter with his family, conditions permitting. Nathan Brennan had also refused to stay. He had a train to catch to Manchester. He would also spend Christmas Day with his family.

Caroline Sheffield thanked Harry for his politeness to her as her father walked up to gather his family. "Father, Lord Henry has asked if I might stay for the holiday."

Captain Sir Mortimer Sheffield cast a curious look at Harry. "That is an interesting request."

"It is because of Hermione," Harry pointed out, as he had rehearsed, "She is the only girl staying with us." He paused as Captain Sheffield watched him. "It is this way, Sir Mortimer. Your daughter made the offer to stay when I commented on that fact. It would be of great help to Hermione. I do understand your position though. It is Christmas."

"Thank you for understanding," Captain Sheffield said. "Caroline, shall we go."

"Father," Caroline said in a last attempt, "look at the poor girl. She has the future of Cambridge on one side of her and a third of Ulster on the other side. She will not be able to breath. That is why I want to help."

"Um," Harry paused. "Captain, I did ask your daughter to consider me a close friend, so that proper etiquette would be shown."

"Close friend, Caroline?"

"Father, He could not ask me to stay otherwise. And we agreed our friendship would end as soon as one of us found someone we truly liked."

"Let her stay," Lady Sheffield told her husband, then added with humour, "She is old enough to set her sights. And she can see Ulster clearly from here."

Captain Sheffield looked at his wife in mock horror. "You scheming woman. You want to set our daughter to trap a Lord in her bridal net."

"It worked for me," Lady Sheffield said, and they both laughed.

Caroline could not resist a small jibe. "To tell the truth, Father, I have set my sights lower." Captain Sheffield turned around to find her looking straight at Harry who was saying, "on second thought, Hermione should be fine."

"You may stay, Dearest," Captain Sheffield said with grandiose beneficence, "but do reconsider. He is NAVY."

Caroline smiled, and walked with her family to their coach. After their departure, she returned to the hall, and walked over to where Hermione was standing. Ignoring Lord Robert and O'Connell, she curtsied and introduced herself. "I understand that we are the only two girls staying for the holiday. I thought we could talk."

Hermione smiled and they both excused themselves. Robert watched sadly as she walked away.

* * *

It was almost seven in the evening when the coach arrived. Hermione and Caroline were sitting together on the settee. Lord Robert and Ron Weasley were enthralling Lord London with stories about Quidditch, as O'Connell listened in. And Harry was standing at the gate staring after another coach that had departed. Colin Creevey was returning home for the rest of the holiday.

The coach stopped as it passed the gate and a window opened.

"My Lord Somerset?" a familiar voice asked. Master Sorcerer Cameron Mercer was looking out at him.

"Lord Henry Somerset," Harry replied as he raised his hair to show his scar. "Merry Christmas to you, Master Sorcerer. Have you the pudding? If so, your timing is excellent."

Master Mercer stepped out of the coach and waved the driver forward. He would walk back to the house with the young lord. "I was told that Goodwoman Granger had arrived here for the holidays. I was very much surprised by the person who informed me."

"I would not know about that." Harry answered honestly.

"It was Master Sorcerer Sean O'Lochlainn. He visited me in my office at the College of London. I was curious how he found out about me, and I thought I would ask his godson, My Lord."

"Do you mean the wand Hermione is testing for you? She probably told him when they met. She tells everyone who asks about the wand."

Master Mercer smiled. "It was as simple as that? I must learn to worry less. You do understand, My Lord, that having a quality student at your school encourages other to consider your school as well. Our accreditation has always been as good or better than Cambridge, but they do have the Royal Thumaturgical Institute there as well."

Harry gave the Sorcerer a confused look. They had reached the front door. "I do not understand your point, Master Sorcerer."

"Then you will shortly, My Lord." Master Mercer paused as Harry opened the door for him. "My Lord, does the wand still work?"

"Only for Hermione, and she says it takes a lot of effort."

Master Mercer smiled. "I suppose it would." He was still smiling when he entered the sitting room where everyone had gathered. The servant announced him, and Lord Bontriomphe immediately thanked him for the gift of the pudding, assuring him it would be served shortly. When he stepped back, Master Sean took his place.

"Cameron, I am so happy that you are here. I have a few things I must tell you." Master Sean led him away for a private conversation. A few minutes later, the two walked into the sitting room and confronted Hermione Granger.

Hermione excused herself to get the wand she had been given back in September, and returned shortly. Master Sorcerer Cameron Mercer examined the wand over a period of twenty minutes, as Hermione explained to him how the wand worked for everyone at first.

"But now, Master Sorcerer Mercer, I seem to be the only who can use it, or will bother. It does take a great deal of effort."

The Sorcerer smiled. "Please do not be so formal, Hermione, if I may call you that. You are informal with Master Sean. Call me Cameron. And could you show me how well the wand is working for you?"

It was Robert who noticed and nudged Harry. As Hermione concentrated on moving the glass from one side table to the other, both Sorcerers were watching her and not the glass. Both boys saw them grin at each other once Hermione finished the task.

"I told you it was difficult to use, Master Cameron."

"That is no surprise," the Sorcerer said, as Master Sean let out a snort. The tubby Irishman was trying to control his laughter. Master Cameron said smoothly, "the spell on this wand dissipated weeks ago. This is nothing more than a decorated piece of metal."

Hermione was the most surprised. "But I just used it."

"Then I shall prove it to you." Master Cameron picked up a spoon and handed it to the girl. "Do exactly what you did when you were holding the wand, and you will get the same result. If that is too embarrassing, simply stand there and move it."

Everyone was quiet. Hermione looked at the glass, then back to Master Cameron, who gave her a reassuring nod. Master Sean uttered some words of encouragement, and Hermione turned back to the glass. In complete silence, she concentrated. No one in the room moved, although the servants all came out, quietly, to watch what was happening. Thomas Dudley and the stable boy, Gwilliam, were standing together. For two minutes or more, the glass sat there. Suddenly, as though an invisible hand had grasped it, the glass began to rise in the air. Then the glass fell back to the table and shattered.

Hermione said, crying with delight, "I was doing it. I could feel the spell in my head." She paused and blushed. "I'm sorry. I lost my concentration."

"You will get better with practice," Master Cameron told her. "You have a very organized mind. That is helpful in sorcery, especially when it comes to ignoring wards."

"I don't understand."

"It is simple, Miss Granger," Master Sean said. "Remember what I told you about the Laws of Convergence and Compatibility. A ward is set up at the point of convergence, usually a doorway or a corridor. As with the coin I showed you, only someone with the compatible factor can pass the point of convergence."

"You have been teaching her, Sean?"

"Only lectures, Cameron. As I was saying, Hermione, you remember Captain Grissom's ship. I put a ward on the ship so that only those students in his class could board. That was on Hallowe'en night, if you remember."

Hermione frowned. "There couldn't have been any wards on the ship. I was worried about Harry, uh, Lord Henry, and I wanted to make sure he was fine. I remember hesitating, but I don't remember anything stopping me."

Master Sean nodded. "Nor did anyone stop you from taking my stack of coins. I suspect you were more concerned about 'uh Lord Henry' then about spending money."

"Master Sean?" Master Cameron said with a touch of surprise. "In my capacity I have been cataloging secured research of . . ."

"I apologize Cameron, I thought you knew. Hermione is from the world you have been analyzing."

Master Cameron grew wide eyed. "And everyone here knows?" Master Sean nodded. "How many others are here from that world?" He was looking around carefully.

Ron Weasley raised his hand. From another corner, Baron MontClaire raised his hand. Then Harry raised his. Master Cameron had the look of a man who had discovered the lost city of gold. "Then, then, you and Lord Somerset . . ."

Harry nodded. "Except for the scar."

"They gave me no names," Master Cameron explained. "Only the facts to organize. But I must ask your age, Hermione."

"I turned Thirteen in September."

"There is no need to rush. The earliest we could admit you is in October, and that will be mostly lectures anyway, although if you have a sponsor there is a chance of having tutorials. I would be more than willing to volunteer for that privilege if you decide to attend."

Master Sean noted Hermione's confused look. "Unlike most others in your world, Miss Granger, you have sufficient talent to make training worthwhile. What we are trying to do is to get you to agree to attend the Sorcerial College of the University of London." He smiled ingenuously, and Hermione had to laugh.

"You want to train me to be a Sorceress?"

"No, a Sorcerer. Sorceress seems to have an evil connotation. We do not use the name. But we do not need an answer right away. I hate to suggest this, but you should talk to Professor Quirrell about it, although he will try to talk you into attending Cambridge."

"I like Cambridge," Ernie MacMillan said as a lark. "And she will have a friend there."

Then Lord London spoke up, as he stood up and walked over to Hermione, taking her hand. "Hermione will go to school in London, because here she has family."

"I'm not family," Hermione pointed out.

Lord London looked up at Hermione and said, "You almost are."

Hermione grinned at the eight-year-old boy. "Fine. IF I go to school to be a sorcerer, I will go to school in London."

"You will stay with us," Lord London gushed. "And you can show me magic every day."

"MY LORD LONDON," Lord Bontriomphe said brusquely. "Goodwoman Granger said IF. And while she will be more than welcome in your house, she will decide what is best for her." He leaned down to look Roger in the eye. "And she will not be at your beck and call to perform spells for your entertainment." Roger frowned at the rebuke. "On the other hand, the servants are waiting to serve us a most wonderful pudding." He whispered to Lord Roger, "the raisins are bigger than plums, I do believe."

* * *

Hermione looked out of her window at the snow that gently coated the ground. Caroline was behind her, with a whimsical look on her face.

"Hermione, I am very happy that I dared to be polite, and nod agreeably when Goodman Weasley asked about Quidditch."

"And you mentioned it to Harry to see how he would react."

"Then I bribed him into helping me stay, so that I could find out the whole story. But I learned more than I planned. Hermione, forgive me for asking, but what are the abominations?"

Hermione shuddered at the memories. The dementor in the coach. The dementors filling the pitch. "They are walking nightmares. They are used to guard the prisons, so that evil wizards do not escape."

Caroline shuddered in turn. "I am sorry, Hermione, but your world seems so . . . barbaric." She was surprised when Hermione started laughing.

A/N: I was asked why Master Sorcerer Sean O'Lochlainn was always referred to by his full name and title. The simple reason is that he is a person in high standing (Master Sorcerer and Chief Forensic Sorcerer for his Highness, the Duke of Normandy), while still being a commoner. He can not use any honorific before his name, so his full name and guild rank are used. On a personal level, he would be referred to as Master Sean, as Robert does (as Charlie Potter) when he first spots the Sorcerer at Hogwarts.


	27. Year's End

Chapter Twenty Seven: Year's End

"And this is London?" Hermione asked as they walked the street from London House heading generally toward the Thames. She marveled at the odd mixture of modern and medieval, as Harry pointed out the sites to her.

"Do you know where we are now?" Harry asked at one point, after they had turned a corner.

"Should I?"

"In a different London, this is Kings Cross." He pointed to a baker's shop. "I compared the maps. That shop is where the entrance to the station would be."

"I smell fresh bread."

At Harry's invitation, they entered the shop.

"I love those Holiday Cakes," Hermione said, pointing at the tray of Petit Fours.

"As you command," Harry said gracefully, and ordered a dozen.

"Forgive me, Sir," the Baker said as he packaged the order. "Would you be Lieutenant Lord Somerset?"

"One of them, Goodman," Harry said with a grin. "Henry Somerset."

"The Bristol Boy," the baker said in awe before he could catch himself. He then began to apologize, but Harry stopped him.

Hermione smirked. "I know I will prove myself a fool, but what is a Bristol Boy?"

"You jest, My Lady."

"No to both," Hermione said, "In my ignorance I have never heard that phrase, and I am not a lady. I am GOODWOMAN Hermione Granger."

"Goodman Tom Powell," the baker said. "But if you are a friend of Lord Somerset, surely you would know."

"I study Magic, not ships," Hermione said.

"At your age, Goodwoman?" The Baker asked. "You must have started only recently. I have a nephew, fifteen, and in his second year as an apprentice." The baker then related how his nephew was discovered to have enough talent to be trained and had begun his studies at the University of London. In turn, Hermione explained that she was sitting in on lectures, courtesy of Harry's Godfather, who was a Sorcerer. She was invited to attend the University once she was of age.

Harry was happy for the change of subject but it did not last. Tom the Baker dared to ask, finally, why Lord Somerset never explained about the Bristol Boys. Hermione said he probably forgot.

"Should I, My Lord?" Tom asked in all seriousness.

Harry nodded and stepped back, as though to show he was not part of the conversation.

"It was before your time, Goodwoman Hermione," Tom told the girl, "But what do you know about the Bristol?"

"I read about it in History. The Polish fleet tried to break out of the Baltic. The Bristol was the first ship there. Harry, I'm sorry, Lord Henry's uncle was Captain. I know he was killed."

"I had a cousin on the Bristol," Tom said. "He died, too. They were the first ship. It was an impossible situation. But they stood fast, and they succeeded. They stopped the Polish fleet. When someone young does the impossible, he's called a Bristol Boy, like Lord Henry Somerset."

Hermione tried to smirk. "What did he do that was impossible?"

Tom the Baker glared at Harry, as though any friend of his should have no need to ask such a question. "I read about it. Three Sorcerers and My Lord and Sir Farley stopped them in their tracts, then killed their Captain."

"That isn't true," Harry interrupted. "The Captain took his own life," his voice trailed off. "He refused to surrender."

"I remembered falsely, My Lord," the baker said as an apology. The Lieutenant clearly did not care to talk about the matter.

Harry smoothed it over, saying this was not the season for such talk.

As they left, Hermione asked how Harry felt. "He was bragging about something that you did."

"He was bragging about men dying, Hermione."

"No, he wasn't," Hermione said, almost shouting. "He was talking about men who lived, because of you. I know about your ship being attacked, Ron told me, but it took a chance meeting in a strange town to find out that you . . . that you're a hero."

Harry refused to listen.

"Remember. It was a year and a half ago. You were a hero then, too. And I told you, you were the better wizard."

"I remember."

"Did you ever wonder how I knew that?"

"Hermione, don't . . ."

Hermione stopped in her tracks, forcing Harry to stop as well.

"Goodman Tom was right. You have to accept that, Harry. Not because you're some Lord or something or a high and mighty officer or nephew of the King." Hermione looked Harry in the eyes. "Underneath all of this, you're still Harry Potter. You have to do your best because that is who you are. In this world, they call you a Bristol Boy. It's not a compliment, Harry. They just want to tell you they know you."

Hermione watched as Harry stood there in thought. Then she pulled him into a hug. "Thank you for being you."

"Thank you," Harry whispered in return, "for putting me in my place."

"And now we have to go back to the bakery."

Harry was surprised. "Why."

"We forgot the holiday cakes."

Harry and Hermione laughed. They were still grinning when they met Goodman Tom again. Harry grabbed the bag of sweets and they continued their walk until Hermione stopped him again.

"What was that?" Hermione asked not long afterward as they passed an alleyway between the shops. She stopped to look down the alley and saw a bundle of blankets against a wall.

Harry stepped cautiously into the alley and saw a small form sleeping inside the bundle. As he bent over, he put his hand on the wall and noticed it was warm. Whoever was sleeping here was not stupid. This was the back to a fireplace. Harry lifted up the blanket to look underneath, and saw a boy who could have been anywhere between six and nine.

"Bill?" The boy asked, then looked up to see Harry in his Naval uniform. "I dint do it, I swear."

"I apologize for disturbing your rest," Harry replied calmly. "We were curious who would be out in this weather."

The boy looked at him with a mixture of fear and anger, then noticed Hermione. A glint of cunning came into his eyes. "Is only me, milord. An I would not pass up a shilling or two for being woke up."

"Harry, we can't leave him here," Hermione said anxiously. She gave the boy a look that Mrs. Weasley would have been proud of.

"I won't be stayin'," the boy said as he recognized the look and the tone of voice. "Just tired. All rested now." He began to get up, and roll up his blankets.

"No," Hermione insisted as she walked up to the boy and put her hand on his shoulder. "You're not going to run off anywhere." She turned to Harry, "We have to do something to help him?"

"You can let go," The boy yelled and kicked Hermione. When she released his shoulder to grab her leg, he pelted down the alley to the street.

Harry watched in amusement. "How are you?"

"Fine. I'm not hurt. Harry, why did he run like that? It's obvious he doesn't have a home."

"I would not know. Maybe he did not like the orphanage? Or perhaps church welfare was not good enough for him?"

A voice called from the street. "Lieutenant?"

Harry looked up to see an Armsman standing at the end of the alley, the boy firmly held by one hand. Hermione took his hand and they both walked back to the street.

"My usual patrol, Sir," the Armsman said. "I was up a ways and I saw you and the lady enter the alley. I thought I would investigate. And it is good that I did. What did he steal?"

Harry identified himself and said congenially. "He stole nothing. We disturbed him and he ran because he was afraid of us."

"Is that true, Miss?"

"The boy was sleeping in the alley," Hermione said with passion. "We were only trying to help him."

The boy frowned when Hermione said this, and scowled when the Armsman asked, "Your home, boy. Where is it? You get a free ride and a meal to go with it." The Armsman noted the scowl. "You get the meal anyway, but you are coming with me."

Hermione was surprised at the boy's reaction. It was one of surrender.

The Armsman smiled to them. "The boy will be fine, Lieutenant. I hope you and your lady enjoy the rest of your leave." He walked off, dragging the now unprotesting boy with him.

"What will happen to him?" Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "He will end up in an orphanage. After that, he could run off and be back on the streets. Or he might wait until the end of winter."

"You're very casual about this."

"Hermione, this is not a happy world. It is an orderly one, but that does not mean that everyone is happy. Everyone has a place, and some fall through the cracks, regardless of what we do. That boy will be given some warm food and a warm bed, but he may not take it. He may or may not run away. I do not know, and I can not do anything about it."

"Harry," Hermione said with a touch of anger. "You are a lord. That should mean something."

"It means my father was Marquis. That is all it means." Hermione gave him a puzzled look. "It is this way. My father was Marquis of London. I am Lord Henry because of that. I do not have a title. Because I do not have a title any children that I have will be common. For them, the fact that I am a lord does not matter. Do you understand?"

Hermione nodded, and they continued their way back to the town house.

"Where is the police station, or whatever you call it here?" Hermione's tone was casual.

"The barracks? A mile from here, not much more. Why?" Harry gave her a wry look. "They will not let you take him home. You know that."

Hermione nodded. "I feel responsible. I would like to make sure he's alright."

"We will return home and get something warm to drink. If no one objects, we will take the coach for a ride. IF we pass the barracks, we will stop."

"Thank you, Harry," Hermione said and gave his hand a squeeze. As they walked, she asked another question. What Harry had told her about titles had reminded her of Owen. She thought to ask why she did not have to worry about titles when she was with him. She was not happy with the answer.

"Robert would be the better person to ask, but this is what I know. O'Connell has a reputation for practical jokes. He had you call him by his Christian name because that would let everyone know that you had little knowledge of protocol. He then led you to the one person in the room that would assume he had kept you in ignorance deliberately. It worked. Lady Sheffield immediately took you under her wing."

* * *

Harry left Hermione with Robert and O'Connell. His revelation of O'Connell's prank did not sit well with her, and she intended to give the Irish boy a piece of her mind. Harry used the initial scuffle as an excuse to disappear. He headed for the stables, grateful that Lord Bontriomphe had him taught to ride a horse during any free time he had. He told Gwilliam not to mind him, and saddled the mare he had been given. She was everything Harry needed, gentle, willing and patient, especially patient. She also had Harry trained to bring her sugar or an apple every time he came to ride her.

* * *

The Armsman at the entrance to the barracks looked up in surprise to see a Naval officer ride up, especially one so young. He saluted, and Harry returned it and dismounted.

"Forgive my rudeness, Armsman. A young boy was brought here today. He was discovered by a friend of mine and she wanted me to look in on him."

The Armsman nodded. "If it were my wife, she would make me do the same. Is she a close friend?"

"Of my brother," Harry answered, and both smiled.

"I'll mind your horse, Lieutenant. The Sergeant at Arms should be inside. His office is to the right."

Harry thanked the man and entered the barracks. A few minutes later he was in a barred room with the boy he had woken earlier.

The boy had been washed thoroughly and given a change of ill-fitting clothes, and was now staring at the food in front of him as though it were poison. He gave Harry the same look.

"I was told to come," Harry said evenly. "I am ordered to ask you if you need anything from me."

"Ordered?"

"Her name is Hermione. It is easier to obey than argue. She was the girl you kicked."

"Why should she care?"

"She wants you to have a happy home."

Both boys smirked. The boy replied, "Tell her she's done enough, thanks all the same."

"Can I contact anyone for you?"

"You'll tell them," the boy hissed.

Harry noted that the boy's eyes darted toward the barred door.

"I give you my word as an officer," Harry said, "that I will tell them nothing about what you say, without your permission."

"You're lying. You always lie."

"I could fetch Hermione. She will make you talk." Harry gave the boy an earnest look. "She made me come here."

The boy snorted again, then gave Harry a pleading look. "Can I really trust you?"

Harry nodded. "I gave you my word."

The boy had Harry move close to him, and began to whisper, "could you tell Billy what happened?"

"And Billy is?"

"My brother."

Harry nodded. "Where do I find him and what does he look like?"

The boy, who revealed his name was Michael, told Harry everything he knew. Michael was happy to have the chance to confide in someone, even if it was only a boy four years older then him.

Michael was a Tadpole. He lived on the streets for the most part, but he did have an occasional home. He also had a family, of a sort. Tadpoles, or Mudlarks as they are also called, were always in danger but they would be adopted by families. Michael was adopted more than two years before by a boy, no older at that time than Harry was now. The boy, known as Slippery Bill was big for his age as Michael was small. They made a good team when conditions demanded they 'borrow' items without permission. It was not the ideal circumstances for a child, but it kept him safe from worse things.

* * *

Lord Darcy rode his horse to a section of London he would never visit for social reasons. He found the nearest Armsman's station and left his horse, daring to walk the rest of the way. At one point he paused to turn his fine cloak inside out. It was a drab and well-used cloak when he stepped into the common room of the Lonely Soul, pausing as his eyes adjusted to the dimness.

"Can I help you, dearie?" a waitress said as she came up to him.

"I apologize, Goodwoman," LordDarcy said in a rougher voice than normal. "I'm looking for a friend."

"Go ahead and look, then," the waitress said.

Lord Darcy ordered a mug of the local brew from the bar and commented honestly that it was better than he expected. He then stood for a while in the corner where he had a good view of the common room. Making his choice, he walked to one of the long tables and sat down in an empty spot on the bench.

After trading small talk with the young man across from him, he made his pitch. "I'm lookin for a lad about your size. For possible work. A lot of walking. Name's R.C."

"Might be interested. Friends call me Bill. What's in it for me?"

"That depends on how much you want in. Where can we talk?"

Lord Darcy excused himself after finishing his beer, and left. He made his way carefully to the alleyway, and waited. Twenty minutes later, Bill was there, with two older, and bigger, friends.

"We came to find out what you really wanted," Bill told him. "And we want the truth." The two friends grinned with expectation. Darcy turned his head and saw another man standing casually at the mouth of the alley, to dissuade any interruptions.

Darcy smiled sincerely. "It concerns Michael. Did you know that he is with the Armsmen at High Street?"

"He IS a King's Man," One of the friends said menacingly.

"But I am not an Armsman," Lord Darcy said evenly, then added with a grin, "You did want the truth."

The friend paused. It was Bill's business, and thus Bill's call. The young man glared at Darcy. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"You do not, but it should be obvious. If I were here to arrest you, I would have at least a dozen Armsmen with me. Instead, I am alone. But it seems that Michael took my nephew into his confidence. My nephew agreed to contact you, but conditions forced him to confide in me, instead. Please apologize to your brother when you see him for my nephew's breach but it was necessary."

Darcy smiled inwardly. Bill was clearly convinced that he was telling the truth, but Bill had no idea what the point was. After all, if the Armsmen had Michael, what point was there in him trying to get to his brother. That was when Darcy threw his surprise at Bill.

"Do you still wish to enter the King's Guard?"

All three men stared at him. "How did you know about that?" Bill asked.

"As it was told to me, when you found Michael you tried to enlist. He saw you go to the Main Barracks."

"He followed me?"

"Bill?" a friend asked.

"It's when I first found him. I had this . . ." He waved his hand as though to swat the dream away.

"He was refused," Darcy interrupted, "because he had no endorsement. But it was a good plan. You could have given him a real home . . . If you are interested, Bill, I can guarantee an endorsement this time, and you can forget your old life . . . completely."

Bill and his friends knew what Lord Darcy meant. If Bill did this, it was with the understanding that his past would not come into the picture. No one would ask about it. No one would tell about it. But Bill wavered.

"Tha's a good deal," Bill's other friend said after a silent pause. "If ye mean to do it."

"What do I do?" Bill asked.

"Report to the Main Barracks." Darcy paused. "Michael did not know his last name."

"That's cause I don't know mine, neither," Bill laughed.

Lord Darcy grinned. "Then I will tell them to expect you."

As Lord Darcy went to leave the alley, the closer of Bill's friends put his hand up. The man at the end of the alley nodded and went back into the Lonely Soul. Darcy nodded to the men and left. Under his cloak he returned his MacGregor pistol to his underarm holster.

* * *

Lord Darcy entered the town house and asked that Lord Henry be summoned at once. Harry appeared shortly, and at his uncle's request, left with him, giving his brother and his friends a quick apology. Robert assured Hermione that he would return shortly and let them know the rest of the story. Caroline Sheffield offered to play a game of card in the meantime, and they returned to the sitting room.

The two returned to the barracks where Harry had been that morning, and they walked in to see the Sergeant at Arms. Lord Darcy identified himself and the Sergeant sent an Armsman to fetch the boy in question. As the boy was escorted into the office, Lord Darcy greeted him.

"Are you well, Michael?"

The boy glared daggers at Harry, but Lord Darcy reached down and forced the boy to look at him. "He told me, and only me so that I could deliver your message." He gave the boy a friendly smile as Michael relaxed his look, then added, "I gave him a message of my own as well. He should be here shortly to tell you about it."

The Sergeant stared. "My Lord, if you know something pertinent to the law you should have told me, or one of the Armsmen."

"I did," Darcy said easily. "I took everything this boy told my nephew, confirmed the pertinent facts and related them to the Captain of the Watch. The other party, Bill, is coming here to confirm those facts." He handed the Sergeant a piece of paper. "This are his orders, for when he arrives."

The Sergeant was dumbfounded. "This is an enlistment?"

"Indeed it is," Lord Darcy said with an honest grin. "It is simple to understand, Sergeant. The boy, Bill, had a hard life, and when he found Michael he found out he had a heart. He was still young enough that it had not hardened completely. He tried to reform, but he was in a quandary. He could join the Army, or (a nod to Harry) the Navy, but then he would have to let Michael go. But if he became an Armsman . . . Do you see the point?"

"And he's still interested?" the Sergeant asked.

"Circumstances made him amenable. Presented as the option to lose his brother, possibly forever, as opposed to trying to revive what he considered a fantasy." Lord Darcy nodded. "He is interested in joining the King's Guard."

As they talked, an Armsman walked up with the new recruit.

"And you must be Goodman William," the Sergeant said, pausing as the boy, Michael let out a cry, and the two hugged each other. Bill apologized and the Sergeant laughed. "You haven't been sworn in yet. You can do whatever you want. That includes leaving, if you have any second thoughts."

Bill shook his head. He would stay.

Harry was surprised at what his uncle had done, but the man had a reputation for solving problems. Lord Darcy even admitted that this one was handed to him with the solution begging. He also pointed out that it was not a happy ending. Bill, or Goodman William as they called him, did not have an easy life in front of him. And he had taken on the responsibility of a family as well. He would have to teach Michael new ways.

* * *

"I must admit," Lord Darcy said as he related the events at the dinner table, "Goodman William was very much surprised to find out the name of the man who endorsed him."

"I should imagine," Lord Bontriomphe added. "You are the Chief Investigator for His Highness."

"I also noted that I was doing so at the request of Lieutenant Lord Henry Somerset. It seems that his exploits are known even among the poorer parts of this city."

Lord London was impressed. "Do they have respect for him as well?"

Lord Darcy smiled. "If you must know, they hold him in higher regard then we do."

Lord London was pleased, but he was also confused. Hermione was, as well, but was willing to admit it.

"It is this way, Goodwoman," Lord Bontriomphe explained. "Before he became Lord Henry, he was a commoner with a name we will not mention. The specifics were not told but he was known to have lived meanly, with only recent schooling to improve his outlook. Then his true origins were discovered and he was raised up to an exalted rank by comparison. It is everyone's dream to wake up and discover they are really Lord So-And-So. But for a boy named Harry, it actually happened."

"Then Harry's a fairy tale come true?" Hermione said. She grinned at Harry. "Somehow, that seems appropriate."

"But there is more to this fairy tale," Lord Darcy added. "All of you know the story of the Hermes. Harry became Lord Henry and then disappeared again, lost at sea. Two weeks later, he reappears as the hero in the capture of a privateer. To the poor, he is a living legend. Do you understand?"

Hermione nodded. "It's the legend of King Arthur, but in modern form."

Lord Darcy gave his approval. "You are astute, Hermione, but I would have chosen Robin of the Wood. Master Sean was correct about you in every detail." He turned to look at the boy next to Lord London. "Harry, do you understand?"

"Yes, Uncle," Harry admitted, "but there is still the sense of unreality."

"Something happened, Harry," Robert insisted. "You must tell us."

"It was after Bill was sworn in. Uncle explained who I was and . . ." Harry paused in embarrassment, ". . . he knelt in front of me and grabbed my hand before I could react, and kissed my signet ring."

In the back of his mind, Harry could still hear Bill's next words. "My life is yours, My Lord."


	28. Patronus

Chapter Twenty Eight: Patronus

Robert stood before Professor Quirrell and Remus Lupin while Harry watched. He raised his wand and called out the spell to produce the Patronus. To his relief, the spell worked. A large white Raven appeared and flew around the room until Robert cancelled the spell.

"I find it curious," Professor Quirrell told the boys. "The Patronus that both of you produced clearly reflect your fathers."

Harry frowned in thought and then smiled. "The Ravens who sit on Odin's shoulders."

"Very good, Lord Henry. You know your mythology. And your father, in your world, is an equally powerful representation. Oberon in his animal form."

"Do we return then?" Harry asked.

"You do understand why we are sending you back, My Lord?"

"You need me to be the wedge, to maintain the connection between our two worlds."

"It is that, and more. We are learning so much about your world. We need to have you, and your brother, as the link."

Harry thought briefly about telling Professor Quirrell that he knew about the prophecy, but he kept his mouth shut on that point. They felt it important that he not know, so he would pretend he didn't. "I will do my best, Professor."

Both boys put their hands on the Professor's arm, and Quirrell invoked the control stone. The laboratory in Cambridge faded away and the Teachers Room at Hogwarts came into focus.

* * *

"The prodigal son returns," Susan Bones said as Robert walked into the common room.

"I thought you would be happy to see me."

"I am, but Cedric Diggory has a bone to pick with you. I thought I should warn you."

"A bone to pick?"

"He's upset with you. We played Ravenclaw, you know, while you were gone."

"Did the match go well?"

Susan Bones shook her head. "It was terrible. Your replacement failed to stop a single goal. Of course, she had no chance to train. The only good thing is that Cho Chang caught the snitch before . . . well, you get the picture."

"It could not be helped," Robert admitted.

"I know," Susan said. "We were thinking for a while that you might come back, just for the game. Cedric actually thought we had a chance at the Quidditch Cup. It's going to be Slytherin again." Susan sighed. There was always next year.

"We have not played them yet," Robert pointed out. "And I plan on beating Slytherin."

* * *

Robert walked back to Hufflepuff as he chewed on the piece of chocolate. He and his brother found something else that they shared. When faced with a boggart, it always assumed the shape of a dementor. It still affected them but not as much as a real dementor. Both boys also learned that they would need more than one lesson with a boggart to perfect the spell, regardless of all their practice. The spell was easy to cast when there was no danger.

* * *

It was mid-February. Harry and Ron turned when the entranceway opened. Professor McGonagall walked in. Harry's eyes grew big when he saw she was holding a broom, a FIREBOLT!

"I thought you would be here, Mister Potter." McGonagall paused. "Old habits die hard, Mister Somerset. I came to give you this." She held out the broom.

Harry stood up in amazement. He had been told that, after he fell from his Nimbus, the broom floated away and into the clutches of the Whomping Willow. It was now an assortment of toothpicks. And here was Professor McGonagall handing him a brand new, top of the line, Firebolt.

"Did you buy this for me, Professor? This is wonderful. Thank You?"

McGonagall looked with surprise at Ron Weasley. "You actually kept a secret? That must be a first for your family."

Ron smirked at the jest. "It was easy. Harry would have been worse off knowing about it."

"About what?"

McGonagall smiled. "You have a mysterious benefactor, Harry. Shortly before Christmas this broom arrived, addressed to you. I had to check it thoroughly, for jinxes and such, just in case."

Harry nodded. It could have been a trap. The murderer, Sirius Black, was still loose. He might be trying to finish the work of his master, Voldemort. Ron was also right about not telling him. If Harry had known about the broom, he would have fretted over it every night.

"Thanks, anyway, Professor. I promise to put it to good use."

* * *

"Trouble with an H," Susan whispered suddenly.

Robert turned to the entrance to see Hermione Granger storming angrily toward him. "Where's Crookshanks?"

"Off wandering," Robert said defensively. "He is probably in one of the dorms. Do you want me to get him?"

"You'll have to go to Gryffindor for that."

Robert stared in surprise.

"I trusted you, Robert. You know how Crookshanks is around rats."

"Hermione, calm down, please. Tell me what happened."

"Ron and Harry both accused Crookshanks of eating Scabbers. Somehow he got into Gryffindor. Ron is furious. He's blaming me for everything, and . . ." Hermione began to cry. Robert, feeling uncomfortable by the scene, stood up and held her in a hug. Susan Bones excused herself, mouthing that she would check it out, and slipped out of Hufflepuff.

Robert thought to himself that they needed to change the password and then not tell anyone.

"Ron Weasley is an overgrown baby, and lazy at that," Robert told Hermione. "He only has that rat because it is so old that all it does is eat and sleep. He is mad because now he will have to get a real pet and pay attention to it."

Hermione looked up, and Robert lifted his hand to wipe the tears from her cheek.

"I am sorry, Hermione. I never thought Crookshanks would bother going back to Gryffindor. But he has always had an independent streak, much like his owner."

"I shouldn't be crying," Hermione said as she tried to force a laugh. "I'm worn out with all my classes and the homework and now with Ron acting this way . . ."

"Drop a class," Robert told her. "I do not know how you can carry such a workload, but if it is too much, drop one class. There is no shame in admitting you can not do something. Although for you that will be a new experience."

Hermione's eyes dried immediately, then she saw the smirk on Robert's face and returned his smile. "You're right. I should drop a class, but not because I can't do the work. Trelawney is completely useless as a Divinity teacher. I don't know why I ever stayed in the class this long."

Robert smiled in relief. "If you like, I will talk to Professor Sprout. I would not object to having you in Hufflepuff."

"And give Ron exactly what he wants." She let out a sigh. "Thanks for the offer. I just needed to be with someone who didn't think I was completely rotten."

Two days later, Hermione was back in the Hufflepuff common room. Her eyes were red. Robert was surprised when he first saw her, but understood that something had happened.

"What is it?" he said as he stood up and walked to her.

Hermione hugged him. "I'm just happy to have someplace to go."

With the help of Megan and Susan, Robert was able to get Hermione to explain. It should have been a happy time since Gryffindor had managed to beat Ravenclaw. There should have been a celebration, but Ron was using the chance to provoke Hermione. It was as though they had never been friends.

Susan Bones reminded Robert of his suggestion, and told Hermione to stay in Hufflepuff. She was supposed to visit Ron anyway, and she promised Hermione to give him a piece of her mind. Hermione nodded gratefully.

"Why do you have that book?" Robert asked after Hermione began to relax.

"I still have 432 pages to read by Monday."

"You are jesting," Robert told her. "After what happened, you still want to study?"

"What would you suggest?"

Robert smiled. "We could sneak outside and watch the stars."

"But my book?"

"It will probably vanish, never to be found again, once you let it out of your sight."

Hermione smiled and put the book down. "I've never watched the stars before. I've looked at them in Astronomy. And I've read charts . . ."

"You are doing it again," Robert said. "We are supposed to be close. I only want to know if we should be."

Hermione blushed lightly. After Ron's harsh remarks, Robert's words were a welcome change of pace. "I think it's a good idea."

The two of them easily avoided anyone, then found a secluded spot to watch the night sky, close enough to the castle, but far enough away from the lights.

Hermione fell asleep and had a wonderful dream. Robert was telling her yes. Any question she asked, he would smile and say that word. At one point in her dream, she turned to Robert and asked him once again if he thought she was beautiful and he shouted, "ALL STUDENTS AWAY FROM THEIR HOUSES SHOULD REPORT AT ONCE."

"What?" Hermione said as she roused herself.

"Something has happened," Robert answered. He had clearly been awake the entire time. "We need to get back now."

"It could be the dementors."

"They are not near. I would feel them."

Hermione paused. "You can feel dementors?"

Robert nodded. "It is an aftereffect from my contact with them. If you doubt me, talk to Hagrid. From his experience, he can feel them as well. We are safe."

"Get up," Hermione insisted as she stood up and brushed off her clothes. "It must be the escaped convict. He's looking for Harry."

Robert nodded and was up in a flash. Hermione was right. The killer had managed to get into the school once before. If he found them, he might easily believe he had found his prey.

They carefully made their way to the entrance, when a large black dog ran through a suddenly opened door and barreled into them. Just as suddenly, the dog was a man, cursing. "He's gone, and now this!"

Robert turned from his position on the ground, and saw the man, thin, scraggily black hair, yellow teeth, staring in surprise.

"Harry?" the man said curiously and laid a rough hand on the boy's cheek. "You fly just like your father," he said with a sudden grin. Then he changed into the black dog and disappeared into the night.

"Robert," Hermione said fearfully. "He thought you were Harry."

"Yes. He did think that."

"What did he say to you? I couldn't hear."

"Did you hear the part about 'he is gone'? He then told me that I fly like my father."

"And then he ran off? That doesn't make sense. Not if he's trying to kill you."

"We should contact my Uncle, Lord Darcy. He would make sense of it."

With a sudden boom, the Entrance Doors to Hogwarts burst open, and spells were cast to light up the grounds. "I've found them," Professor Flitwick called as Professor Sprout appeared behind him.

"Both of you, back to your dorms," Sprout demanded. Robert never saw her so furious. "Professor Flitwick, could you return Miss Granger to Gryffindor."

"She is to stay with us tonight," Robert said, and quickly explained to the Head of House what had happened in Gryffindor. Sprout nodded and began to lead both students back to her house.

"And why were you outside?"

"Hermione was upset," Robert told. "I invited her to watch the stars with me, to help her relax. We fell asleep."

"Outside the main doors?"

"We were in the bushes," Hermione said sheepishly, knowing she was giving the wrong impression. "That man ran into us."

Professor Sprout stared in amazement. "You saw him."

Robert and Hermione exchanged looks. Then Hermione said, "Only briefly. He knocked into us, we fell down and he kept running."

Professor Sprout nodded and ushered them into the Hufflepuff common room. She then left to tell the Headmaster what had happened.

Both students said little. Something had happened. Unusual and unexpected. They would have to think about it.

* * *

The air was fresh and cold. The last taste of winter in this first weekend of March. Harry, feeling that he should, lent his brother the Firebolt.

"You wanted to try it out."

Robert smiled, and took the broom. Now he was on his broom, guarding the posts against the Slytherin chasers. From the first he refused to be tired and stretched himself to the limit. Twenty-three times Slytherin tried to score and twenty-three times he defended the goals successfully. And the Slytherins were coming again.

Robert moved quickly to block the quaffle, but a well-timed bludger forced him to weave, leaving the posts open. He was still facing the chaser when the Quaffle flew past him. Then it flew back and into the hands of Eleanor Branston who quickly flew toward the Slytherin goals. Robert looked behind him to see Cedric Diggory.

"Curse you, Robert," Cedric said with a laugh. "Now I've lost the . . ." The Seeker suddenly sped away across the pitch.

Robert watched as Cedric streaked after a glint of gold, racing past Draco Malfoy and his Nimbus 2001. Harry's Firebolt was definitely faster. (Robert did warn Harry. He would lend the faster broom to the Seeker). Hufflepuff cheered a moment later as the whistle blew and Cedric held up the snitch. They had won. 200 to zero. Robert smiled.

"It is this way," Robert explained later. "We won our first game by a wide margin and lost our second game by as large a margin. Slytherin can still win the cup by beating Gryffindor by 180 points. Gryffindor however would have to win by over 200 points."

"I wouldn't worry about Slytherin," Diggory answered. "They've all but given up after the trouncing we gave them."

"Then maybe we should worry about Gryffindor," Susan Bones said prophetically. "They can do the math as well."

"Susan is correct," Robert told Cedric. "And Oliver Wood is hungry for the cup."

"I can live with that," Cedric laughed. "But if Wood wants the Cup that badly, he can work for it. And if he gets it," he shrugged, "there is always next year. Wood will be gone, and we have the same team coming back."

"I envy him," Susan said as Cedric walked away. "He can see himself losing and accept it."

"As long as it is fairly lost," Robert added. "For myself, I hope they only make a good showing. I prefer to win."

"Here he is," Hermione said as she escorted Lord London into the common room.

"That was wonderful," Lord London said as he ran up to his brother. "Thank you for letting me come. It was great hearing about all of this, but to actually see it!" The boy was in heaven.

Roger Somerset, Marquis de London, was in rare form. He had traveled to a new world for the first time to see an amazing sight, his first Quidditch match. His brother and Hermione Granger were now giving him the Grand Tour of the school, ending at the Gryffindor common room. As they approached, Robert stopped his younger brother.

"Roger, we have a favour to ask of you. Hermione and I need you to send a letter to Lord Darcy, but you must not let anyone know."

Roger nodded, eager to be part of any secret plot. "May I deliver it to him personally?"

"If you can get to Normandy."

Roger frowned but quickly smiled. "I could write him, and put your letter with it."

"That should work," Robert agreed, and gave him the letter. "Now, let us see what Harry is up to."

* * *

Captain Grissom stood in the hearing chamber to answer the charges of assault. Despite efforts on the part of the ministry he had refused to show until this time. Cornelius Fudge was sure it was in reaction to the sudden news about the Hippogriph. The Department for the Destruction of Dangerous Creatures had decoded to reopen that case.

"Captain Grissom," The Minister said politely, "we are happy that you have finally managed to keep an appointment."

"Minister, if this were an important matter, I would have taken care of it at once."

Fudge was indignant at the remark as were other wizards there to hear the case. Lucius Malfoy, for his part, was delighted. "Excuse me, Minister, but this is a perfect example of the problem. The man has total disregard for authority. This is why I cited a personal grievance against him on behalf of my son."

"Yes," Fudge admitted, looking at the papers before him. "Captain Grissom, the purpose of your summons was so that you could answer questions concerning an alleged assault on a student by the name of Draco Malfoy."

Grissom smiled. "I remember the lad, slight build, pale blond hair, no idea of what he was doing."

"Minister," Lucius Malfoy said in anger, "Such a remark is an outrage."

"Truth is always outrageous," Grissom sneered. "Minister, the boy entered my classroom without any intention of taking the course. I threw my hat at him to see if he would do anything. He refused. So I made him pick up my hat as the condition for leaving my classroom. It is not my fault that he kept walking into me while I was waving my arms. In short order, he picked up my hat, I permitted him to leave my class, and that is the end of the story."

"Then you admit everything?" Lucius Malfoy asked. The way Grissom was acting, he was certain to win this case.

"And more," Grissom acknowledged. "By agreement between the Angevin Empire and the Ministry of Magic, I have been permitted to establish a class for the purposes of educating cadet officers in His Royal Majesty's Navy under conditions as near and exact as they would have otherwise. Also, it was agreed to permit students at the school to attend these classes should they choose, and without prejudice. Please note in the booklet I have provided that the punishment for insulting a superior officer can include confinement, fines of a significant amount, and up to one hundred lashes. At no point have I exceeded the punishment."

"I beg your pardon," one of the wizards said. "Do you claim that you have the legal right to assault these students?"

"Only if they come to my classes and refuse to obey the rules. If they do not come, or if they obey the rules, I may do nothing against them without risk to my own position. Examine your documents, you will see that I am correct."

Fudge was severely annoyed. Grissom had conducted himself with insolent indifference. He had literally shoved the law back in their faces. The rule that permitted any student, regardless of sex to join the class also subjected them to the rules of that other world's navy. His backhanded effort to embarrass the Empire had been reversed.

Lucius Malfoy took the matter in stride. In an honest court he had no case anyway. He was annoyed though by the arrogance of the captain. These were a barbaric people who had no respect. Perhaps the Minister was right. He should have pursued the other matter as well. His friend, MacNair, could find an excuse or make one up, and then they could execute the hippogriph. It would be petty, but it would be something. He paused in his thoughts. The panel had never bothered to issue a ruling. He would still ruffle a few feathers at that school.

* * *

Ginny Weasley was in fine form. It was her task to give the orders to sail the frigate. The Giant Squid was lying placidly in the middle of the lake, and was being used to represent an island. Her task was to circumnavigate the island. It looked easy at first. The wind was behind her, so she ordered all the sails lowered, which happened automatically. The ship lurched as the sails took hold and shot forward. She quickly ordered the rudder to turn and the ship responded. Unfortunately, the ship was picking up speed much faster than she expected. As the ship turned, well past the giant Squid, it began to shake and lean as it came broadside to the wind.

Captain Grissom immediately ordered all sails up, and the frigate settled in its course.

"Do you see, Weasley, why you do not simply drop all the sails? If we were in a rush and heading straight out to sea, you would have been fine, but you have to have more patience when you are changing directions sharply. Try your tack again."

Ginny nodded, still upset from when the ship started to pitch to one side. She ordered the Mainsail and foresail down. She fixed her direction as she slowly made her way past the far side of the giant squid. She barely avoided bringing the ship to as it turned into the wind, but it was little more than luck the kept the ship moving in its turn before it headed back to the dock on its third leg. Ginny was relieved that she didn't have to try docking, or else she might have had to swim ashore.

"Creevey," Grissom said. "You saw the mistakes. You either do better, or you look for another career."

Colin nodded, and began giving orders. He did do better but he made mistakes of his own, including coming too close to the Giant Squid. It moved for him, but if it had been a real island, he would have grounded for certain.

When they were done, they were dismissed. For the next class, both Colin and Ginny were expected to explain what they did wrong, and why. The first part was easy. But both of them were smiling when they left. It is one thing to be on a ship of any size. It is another to be able to command the ship. Even one on a lake. It was fun.

* * *

Lord Bontriomphe promised the Marquis de London that he would post the letter for his uncle, Lord Darcy. He traveled to his office and put the letter, which was actually two letters, in a pouch and sent it with a courier to be routed to Cambridge when it was expedient. Two days later, the pouch was delivered to the office of Professor Gabriel Quirrell, who brought it with him to Hogwarts School when he arrived the following morning. He gave the pouch to Professor Dumbledore who gave it in turn to one of the larger owls. Four days after it was written, the letter was received. Three days later, a reply was sent.

"Dearest Robert," the letter began. "The situation you describe is absurd. Assume that the man, Black, is not guilty of the crime of which he is accused, and the logic is that he is chasing the real criminal. Following this, it is reasonable to assume that he was not after young Ron Weasley, but with whomever the boy shares his bed with. This is what makes the situation absurd. Examine the facts again. Contact me via owl."

It was signed, "Your uncle, James Darcy. PS. Your Godmother gives you her love."

Hermione smirked as she and Robert read the letter. She told him how she had pictured herself asking Ron if he had been sleeping with anyone. Considering how he felt about her since Scabber's disappearance and presumed death, such a question would end their friendship, as weak as it was, forever.

"That is the answer," Robert said jokingly. "Sirius Black was after Ron's rat." They both laughed. Later, they would go over the facts again and try to figure out what it was that they missed. In the meantime, they would keep their secret. And they would keep another one. Lord Darcy was in this world, and that meant he was on the King's business.

* * *

"We should tell Harry," Hermione said firmly. She and Robert were still sitting together at a table in the Hufflepuff common room. "But we're going to have to get him away from Ron somehow."

Robert sighed. Hermione had been avoiding Ron ever since Scabbers the rat disappeared. Ron always made some kind of comment whenever she was around.

"I will tell him," Robert said. "We are going to see Uncle Remus tonight after dinner. I will tell him then."

Hermione looked at him curiously. "That's right. This is Wednesday. You always go on Wednesday. Do you think I could join you tonight?"

Robert stared at Hermione. She knew it was 'family night,' for the twins and their adopted uncle, but she never asked to join them before. Curiously, Ron had asked to join them several times, and Harry was forced to tell him no, but that was when they were taking their Patronus lessons. Both Harry and Robert continued their weekly visits afterwards.

"You thought of something," Robert said carefully.

"Something I should have thought of before now." Hermione was grinning. "I completely forgot that we know someone who used to be a close friend of Sirius Black. Remus Lupin might know why Black acted the way he did that night."

Robert grinned as well. Hermione was right. Remus was the perfect person to ask.


	29. Revelation

Chapter Twenty Nine: Revelation

Captain Grissom watched from the deck of the frigate as Remus Lupin walked toward the ship with the Somerset twins in tow as well as Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Something was afoot and the Groundskeeper clearly wanted to make sure it was a private conversation. He greeted them as they came aboard, then offered to remain out of the way.

"This is your ship, Peter," Remus said with great familiarity. He looked at his adoptive nephews and added, "perhaps you should join us." Harry nodded, but Robert paused, then nodded as well.

Everyone went below deck to the Captain's Quarters, which was in fact the entire hold since there were no crew on the ship. It looked more like a comfortable living room than anything else. As everyone sat down, Remus Lupin prepared himself a cup of tea before turning to Robert.

"You said you had something important to tell me, and to tell Harry, concerning Sirius Black."

Robert nodded. "Yes, Uncle. The night we literally ran into him."

"The night you were hiding in the bushes," Remus asked. Hermione blushed slightly as both Lupin and Grissom gave the two a bemused look.

"They are close," Ron said sarcastically, then mumbled an apology when both adults gave him a scowl.

Remus looked back to Robert. "You said he knocked you down as he ran away. Are you telling us you lied?"

"That part was true enough," Robert admitted, "but when he ran into us he was in the form of a large black dog."

"It seems he's also an illegal animagus," Hermione added, then looked in surprise when Remus nodded. "You already knew."

"We were close friends at one time," Remus admitted. "But you described him accurately to Professor Sprout. I assume he changed back to human form to continue his flight."

"No, Sir," Robert and Hermione admitted. They related the true events as carefully as they could, trying to leave nothing out.

"But that doesn't make sense," Harry told his brother when they finished their tale. "If Sirius Black is trying to kill me, and he thought you were me . . ."

"That is curious," Remus acknowledged. "Unless he is completely mad."

"I took the liberty of writing Lord Darcy," Robert continued. "We received his reply this morning. We told him everything we knew about Black, and he said it was absurd. He told us that if Black were rational, then on the night he broke into Gryffindor he must have meant to attack Ron."

Ron was surprised. "Why would Sirius Black be after me?"

Hermione gave a slight grin. "Lord Darcy said that Black was trying to kill whomever it was you slept with."

Ron understood the implications. "That's insulting. I wouldn't sleep with anybody else in my bed."

"We know," Robert answered diplomatically. "And if you did, you could not keep it a secret anyway, not with four other boys in the dorm with you." Robert smirked. "I did suggest to Hermione that Black was after Scabbers but . . ."

Everyone stopped as a cup crashed to the floor. Remus Lupin had turned deathly pale.

Grissom had his hand on Remus's arm. "What is it?"

Remus pulled out his wand and waved it, whispering "Reparo." The cup reformed itself and Remus picked it up. "Ron, could you describe Scabbers."

"What's to describe? He was old and gray. He slept most of the time."

"Did he have any distinguishing features?" Remus spoke in a quiet but firm voice. "Markings? Scars?"

Ron thought briefly. "Nothing really."

"He was missing one of his toes, on his front paw," Harry pointed out. "Is that what you mean?"

Remus nodded heavily. "That is exactly what I mean."

It was Hermione who understood. "The wizard that tried to stop Black. You said he was blown up, along with a lot of muggles."

"That is right," Harry said. "Uncle Remus, you said that all they found of him was part of a finger."

"Black is an animagus," Hermione reminded everyone. "THAT'S IT. That man was also an animagus. He could change into a rat."

"Scabbers?" Ron asked in both surprise and disgust.

"Peter Pettigrew," Remus replied in an anguished voice. "We called him Wormtail."

Harry and Robert looked at each other. Harry spoke first. "Then Sirius Black is innocent."

Robert picked up his train of thought. "Pettigrew framed him and hid. That was the reason Black laughed when he was caught."

"He knew no one would believe him," Harry concluded.

"And he was right," Remus said sadly. A tear rolled down his cheek. "Oh, Sirius, how wrong we were."

Everyone paused as Remus made an effort to control himself. As he calmed down, Ron asked a question.

"You said you called him Wormtail?"

Remus nodded. "We were all close friends in school, myself, Sirius, Peter, and of course James, your father, Harry."

"But how did Peter Pettigrew know where to find my father? You said Sirius Black was his secret keeper. Would he have told anyone?"

"That is a mystery," Remus admitted. "Sirius was supposed to go into hiding and not tell anyone, even me."

"It is obvious to me," Captain Grissom said. "It was a case of misdirection." He smiled when everyone stared at him. "I've used it before, Harry, if you remember? I had the Polish captain looking at my cannons when he should have been watching my crew. If I understand what happened, Sirius Black claimed he was the secret keeper, so that everyone would be watching him."

Remus frowned. "And James Potter unwitting gave that task to Voldemort's spy."

"But Scabbers is dead," Robert pointed out. "Crookshanks ate him."

Harry shook his head. "He could easily have turned back into a man and killed Crookshanks. We found a patch of blood and a few hairs, and we saw Hermione's cat in the dorm."

"Another misdirection," Hermione said. "But where could he be?"

"He could be anywhere," Remus pointed out.

"If he's in the school or on the grounds, we can find him," Ron told everyone. "Fred and George gave me a birthday present but I haven't had a chance to use it much."

Harry smiled, then gave Ron a surprised look. "That's where we know the name."

Ron smiled. "And I figured something else out. All of you were animagi. Peter Pettigrew was Wormtail. I'm guessing Sirius Black was Padfoot. That sounds like a dog's name. Mr. Lupin, were you Moony or Prongs?"

Remus smiled. "You have our map."

"Map?" Hermione asked.

"The Maurader's Map," Remus explained. "It was our best work. The map can show you where everyone in the school is at, as well as the secret passages and, if need be, their passwords."

Harry nodded. "Ron offered to let me use it to sneak into Hogsmeade."

"But you did not, of course," Robert replied.

"Of course not."

"Nor did you ask me if I wanted to go." Robert gave Harry a knowing look.

"He told me you said no," Hermione offered. Both she and Robert were grinning.

"I never went," Harry said firmly. He turned to Remus. "Uncle, which animal do you turn into?"

"You don't have to tell us," Hermione said hastily.

"But you already know, Hermione?" Remus asked and received a sullen nod. "You were always a bright student. Was it Professor Snape's lesson on potions to repel Werewolves." Hermione nodded again. Remus looked at Harry. "I was Moony. Because of the full moon."

Harry took the remark in stride. After the string of surprises unleashed at him, this one seemed almost obvious. He noticed that Robert and Ron also shared surprised looks, but Captain Grissom did not. Harry made a mental note that the Captain was clearly knowledgeable of a great many things about this world, including Remus's background, as well as his own.

Remus paused, then continued. "Your father and his friends became animagi so that they could safely be with me when I transformed. If either you or Robert are curious, your father was a stag, hence the nickname Prongs."

"My Patronus is a stag," Harry pointed out.

Remus smiled at a memory.

"Excuse me," Captain Grissom said, after clearing his throat. "I believe we have a criminal to catch."

Remus nodded. "We do, but you don't have to be involved, Peter."

"Remus. If it concerns Harry or Robert, I am involved. What are your plans, if you have any?"

"First," Remus said mockingly, "I will admit to being a fool. I know where one of our quarry will be. Robert and Hermione told me when they told what direction he ran off. I think I will pay Sirius Black a visit."

"You know where Sirius Black is?" Harry asked in surprise.

"I do, Harry. I went there many times as a student. I know the place well."

Harry paused, but Remus waited. It was obvious the boy wanted to say something but was trying to gather his thoughts. What he once thought true had been shown to be lies. Slowly, Harry said, "Give my love to my Godfather."

"I will."

* * *

Remus left the ship and walked toward the Whomping Willow. There was a secret passage there which led to the Shrieking Shack. With a surprising lightness to his step, he quickly walked through the tunnel then up the staircase to a dimly lit room. Remus paused, then said quietly, "Hello, old friend."

"You won't stop me," Sirius Black said angrily.

"From murdering him? I will. From capturing Peter? I plan on helping you."

"You know? How long have you known? Who else knows?"

"An hour. Two at the most. Captain Grissom knows. I assume you've seen the ship. Harry knows, of course. He sends his love, by the way." Remus paused as a joyous look engulfed Sirius' face. "As soon as I realized where you were hiding I knew I had to see you, to let you know. You aren't alone anymore."

Sirius Black looked stunned. All those years in Azkaban, knowing he had no proof. And now his oldest living friend appears suddenly and showers him with hope. He slid to the floor and began to cry in relief.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore sipped from his cup of tea as he pondered what Remus Lupin had told him. It was an amazing story but had not yet proved true. If the rat, Scabbers, was in fact Peter Pettigrew, he was not within the school.

"Remus, about the map that you made." Albus smiled as his friend was overcome by a hint of schoolboy embarrassment. "Have you tried to find Mrs. Norris with it?"

"I've thought about that, Albus. I haven't, but Ron Weasley has, for obvious reasons."

Albus chuckled. "Please let Mister Weasley know that he is excused from any punishments in this matter. His willingness to reveal the map makes up for any mischief he, or his friends, may have done."

"He will appreciate it." Remus smiled, then paused with a frown. "I've had a thought." He pulled out his wand and the map. He tapped the map and said, "I solemnly promise I am up to no good."

Albus stood up and walked around his desk and peered over the shoulders of the Groundskeeper as Remus Lupin said, "Show me Scabbers."

Both men smiled when a dot labeled Scabbers appeared in the dungeons.

"Brilliant thinking," Albus commented. "He has been called Scabbers for so long the map recognizes him by that name. And he is hiding in the safest place in the school. Amongst the other rats."

Remus nodded. "With your permission, Albus, I would like to hunt him down."

"Can you do this quietly? The Minister will be here later today and we are not on the best of terms. If he has any suspicion that his escaped prisoner is nearby he will not hesitate to act against him."

Remus was surprised. "Is it about the hippogriph? I thought that matter was settled months ago."

"It was, but when Captain Grissom insulted the Malfoys at his hearing with the Wizarding Council, someone thought it would be a good idea to reopen the case. The reasons are petty, I am sure, but Hagrid and I must assure the Minister that the hippogriph in question will be made available."

Remus scowled at the thought. Cornelius Fudge was becoming fixated on obtaining a control stone. The reasoning behind such a move was obvious. Having failed to embarrass the Empire with the inquiry, the Minister had to show strength in some form. He might even go so far as to destroy the hippogriph just to prove his point.

"Does Fudge actually believe this will help his case?"

"It will, but not with the Empire. It will show that he is still the one to make the decisions in this world. He is doing this to show US that he still has control."

"Albus, how far is he prepared to go? Surely he must realize by now that these people will not give up their only advantage over us."

"Only advantage?" Dumbledore smiled. "Remus, I have lived among these people. Only for a few weeks, I admit, but enough to take stock of them. The Daily Prophet calls them backward and barbaric but they are far from that. They are much more advanced, and more powerful, than we are. Remember this: In their world, Harry Somerset does not have enough magic within him to make it worthwhile to train him, yet here he is already showing himself to be a powerful wizard."

"Albus, I never . . . Then he is in their Navy so that he has a profession?"

"Exactly so. Harry may be the son of a nobleman in that world, but he is counted as a younger son. He will not inherit anything and must make his own way in the world. Fortunately, he is a natural sailor."

Remus smiled at the thought. "How powerful are they that Harry Potter is not good enough to be a sorcerer?"

"Remember, Remus," Albus said, drawing him back to the point of the discussion, "search for Pettigrew as quietly as you can, and be careful. Once he knows you are after him, he will try to run. And if he is cornered he may prove very dangerous. After all, he has hidden under our very noses for years."

"I will remember." Remus stood up and went to leave the office.

"And Remus," Albus called as a reminder, "Do not stay out too late. Remember what night it is."

"I will visit Professor Snape for my potion before I do anything else. He might even forget to sneer at me this time."

Grinning, Remus left the Headmaster's office. He would talk to Peter Grissom after he visited Snape. Then he would ask Sirius Black to play bloodhound for him.

* * *

Harry had his sword raised in time to block the saber. He parried the blade and then dropped his own as his opponent changed tactics and swiped at a leg. Harry then tried to bring his saber up in a quick thrust and received a stinging blow as the flat of his opponent's blade slapped his hand and sent his own sword to the ground. Harry took a deep breath as he looked at the sword at his throat.

"You need to choose your attacks better," Captain Grissom said as he lowered his blade. "But at least you have the courage to try to attack. Pick up your sword and try again."

The one thing Harry did not like about his dueling lessons was the audience. He liked the idea of learning how to use a saber but, now that the weather had turned warm and the days were long enough, Captain Grissom had decided that the lessons should be held on the grass. The result was that a crowd formed to watch every mistake.

Robert, on the other hand, reveled in the crowd. He tried to explain to his brother that should they ever need to use their swords there was sure to be a large group in the area. Harry should appreciate that this group only wanted to watch.

"Barbaric," muttered an older voice from the crowd. "Fighting half-naked with clubs."

Robert turned from watching Harry spar with the Captain to look at the man. He was a stranger, but the man next to him was well known. It was Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, smiling in agreement.

"It's sad that Potter lets himself be degraded this was," Fudge said, sotto voce. "We had such hopes for him."

"I like watching him make a fool of himself," Draco Malfoy said from the crowd of students, then looked up in feigned surprise. "Minister! I apologize. I shouldn't have interrupted." Draco started to get to his feet but the Minister put a hand on his shoulder.

"No need to stand because of me, dear boy. Enjoy the spectacle." As he walked away, he added loudly. "Can you imagine, MacNair? They're teaching the boy not to use a wand."

"That boy. Malfoy, had the right of it, Minister. It is amusing to watch."

Both men laughed lightly as they walked onward to the school.

Captain Grissom chose that moment to dismiss Harry. Robert unsheathed his sword and stepped forward as Harry sheathed his. Grissom signaled Robert to stay where he was and called Colin Creevey forward. Robert watched with curiosity because Colin had mentioned earlier that he had been practicing on his own.

Colin and Grissom saluted each other. A ripple of laughter went through the watching crowd because of the sight of the tall man and the small boy. Grissom stepped forward and brought his sword down in a quick attack. Colin put up his sword to block but fell to the ground from the force of the blow. Colin fell to one side and the Captain's momentum carried him forward as his blade was not parried. Then Grissom let out a surprised yelp as the flat of Colin's blade slapped against his calf.

Colin had not fallen at all. He had dropped and rolled, bringing his own saber to bear while his opponent was off balance. As the Captain turned, Colin was already on his feet, and his sword pointed at Grissom's chest.

"You will never get away with that trick a second time," Grissom laughed, "but you only need to do that once. A good move, Lieutenant." He paused to look at the beaming boy. "Remember, Colin, it is a fine trick, but it will not work once you begin to grow. Back to your mark."

Robert and Harry cheered Colin's move, as did most of the crowd. Then Harry picked up his shirt and jacket. "Do not forget," he reminded his brother, "We are both wanted in the headmaster's office after dinner." The twin boys grinned at each other. They would soon meet Sirius Black. Robert turned back to watch Colin as Harry walked back to the school, Ron and Hermione joining him. Both twins were happy that the two had made up and were friends again.

* * *

Remus was kneeling as he looked at the Map. The reason for this was so that the black dog had a clear view of it as well. The rat that was Scabbers had caught their scent and had begun to flee the castle. Pettigrew would quickly find out that the easy exits had been blocked and his only avenue of escape would leave him open. Two ways had been left open and Remus was waiting for the rat to discover his predicament.

But rats are small and Pettigrew was clever by half. He knew how he had been found and he had made his own escape plans. As Remus waited to see which way the rat would run, the rat ran in a third direction. Somehow, he was heading straight for the Gryffindor Tower, which was in the opposite direction. Both man and dog ran quickly in pursuit, unsure if they could still trap their former friend.


	30. A Matter of Time

Chapter Thirty: A Matter of Time

The sun was beginning to set as Robert finally finished his lesson. The warmth of the day was going with the light. He picked up his shirt and jacket, and donned them. As he put his shirt on, something felt wrong. He realized that he was putting on Harry's shirt. Harry had come directly from his Potions class, and had brought his wand with him, hiding it in the shirt, instead of leaving it in his dorm as he normally would have. Captain Grissom was adamant that the wands were not to be brought, unless there was no time because of other classes. Then, they were to be kept hidden from sight.

This was not the first time this happened, taking the wrong jacket. But as they were both the same size and the same rank, it was more an amusement than anything else. Robert mused that this was the first time Harry had forgotten about his wand, but then Harry usually had enough time to return to his dorm first. The boy shrugged his shoulders and put the jacket on. He would return it when he went to the Great Hall.

He went quickly back to his house, knowing that he was already late to dinner, but he needed to wash. Robert smiled. Whenever they had sword practice, he was almost always the last, and the Captain always took longer with him. Dueling was the one skill he excelled at that Harry could not match, but then Robert had been taking lessons from the moment he could walk. It was worth it to be late for dinner on occasion. His dream, from the first day he joined the Navy was to become a commissioned officer, a full Lieutenant. It was not the rank that mattered so much, but the first thing a commissioned officer received was his sword. It became part of his uniform.

Cleaned and changed, Robert began his short trek to the Great Hall. Both wands, his and Harry's, were tucked safely inside his shirt. He hurried his pace when he heard noise ahead of him but stopped short and stepped into the shadows of a small nook when he saw the procession of figures.

There looked to be a dozen adults, but Robert only recognized the teachers among them, and one other, the Minister of Magic. As they passed, Robert noticed something else. There were four students with them. One was in Hagrid's arms. He did not see whomever Hagrid was carrying but he could make out that the boy was in a naval uniform.

Robert knew it had to be Colin Creevey, because he could make out the other three students clearly. Harry, Ron and Hermione. Ron looked the worst of the lot with his arm bending in the wrong place. He was unconscious and being floated toward the infirmary. Hermione was walking unaided but she had a worried look on her face. Harry kept insisting he was fine, but Professor McGonagall kept her hand under his arm anyway. After the crowd passed Robert stepped out of the shadows to follow but stopped again when a hand was placed on his shoulder.

"I think you should wait," Albus Dumbledore whispered from behind him. "If they see you, it might make for awkward questions."

"What happened, Professor?"

"Do you remember Professor Trelawney's prediction? The one that Harry is not supposed to know about."

"I did not tell him," Robert said truthfully.

"And Lord London refuses to tell anyone how he found out."

Robert was surprised. "Roger knows?"

"Your brother knows a great many things that he should not. I mean no slight against you, but he seems more his father's son than you."

Robert nodded. "Our housekeeper warned me, but I thought she was having a jest." He paused. "Did they meet Voldemort?"

Dumbledore noticed the unspoken thought: "without me". He smiled sadly. "Nothing as simple as that. They encountered Peter Pettigrew."

"They caught him?" Robert felt almost as strongly about the traitor as Harry did.

"Sadly, no. Harry let him get away. His friend Ron was injured, and there were . . . complications. I think it is safe to proceed, now."

Dumbledore led a confused Robert to the infirmary, carefully avoiding a nearby open doorway where the adults were in deep discussion. Albus told Robert to wait, and stepped into the infirmary. Robert took the time to listen to the voices in the other room. The names of Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew were being frequently mentioned. Robert understood. Pettigrew might have escaped but he had been seen. They were talking about how Harry's godfather, in this world, might be innocent.

"Robert," came the soft whisper as Hermione stepped out of the infirmary. She quickly put her arms around him and gave him a kiss. "I do love you," she told him. The two hugged each other, then turned as Harry and Dumbledore also came out. He quietly led them away from the open doorway until they were far enough away that they could not be heard.

"I think you understand now, Miss Granger. Three turns should do it."

"What do you mean?" Robert asked.

"I have a time turner," Hermione answered, showing him the hourglass-shaped locket. "That's how I've been taking all those classes."

"Robert," Harry explained, "we need to go back in time, three hours. There are things each of us must do." He grabbed his brother's hand and Hermione activated the time turner. All three disappeared.

Albus smiled lightly and walked back to the infirmary to stand guard. Two minutes later, Harry and Hermione came around the corner. Albus opened the door to the infirmary and let them in. He then proceeded to the conference room to discuss the fate of Sirius Black.

* * *

Harry finished putting on a clean uniform and went down to the common room where Ron and Hermione were waiting. He was wearing a sheepish grin. Hermione gave him a curious look, begging an explanation.

"Remember, Hermione, I told you I picked up Robert's jacket by mistake? He has my wand."

Ron snorted and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You'll see him in the Great Hall," Ron assured his friend. "SCABBERS?"

Harry followed Ron's eyes and saw the rat. It had obviously come out of some hole and was surprised by the reception. All three students exchanged quick looks and held their tongues. Ron began to walk toward the rat, carefully calling it "Scabbers" the entire time. The rat decided to run but was stopped by the sudden appearance of Crookshanks, Hermione's cat. It stopped again, and Ron grabbed it.

"Put him in your pocket," Hermione called out as she pulled out her wand. Ron paused briefly, then did as he was told.

"He keeps squirming," Ron said anxiously as he tried to hold his pocket closed.

"Then let's get to Dumbledore," Hermione told him.

"But what if he changes back?" Harry asked.

"He can't," she assured him. "I've put an unbreakable charm on you pocket. He can't transform because he doesn't have enough space. Pettigrew is trapped like a rat." Hermione grinned at her clever joke.

The three left the common room and headed toward the headmaster's office, although at a slow pace. Scabbers, knowing his disguise was revealed, was writhing and squirming in every direction in an effort to get free. Then he was free. Rats have teeth and he managed to bite though the cloth. Ron let go off his hold as the rat sank its teeth into his finger. Scabbers dropped to the floor, and raced toward the Great Hall.

The three Gryffindors gave pursuit, and were in time to see the rat jump out of an open window on the first floor. They raced to the main doors to be joined by a large dog, the animagus Sirius Black.

"He jumped out that window," Harry quickly explained as he opened the door. The dog raced through and quickly caught the scent of his prey. Harry watched as Remus Lupin came running up. They followed him outside as they told him what happened.

"Sirius intends to kill Peter," Remus told them. "We have to stop him."

Instantly, they were running again. They had one advantage in catching up. The rat, being smaller, could change directions more quickly, but the dog was faster. Sirius had not caught Peter but he held up his escape by constantly cutting off his route to the Forbidden Forest.

As they ran off into the dusk, three figures stood up from behind a set of bushes.

"He won't kill him," Hermione assured Robert. "Sirius knows we believe him."

Robert nodded. "And before I forget, Harry, here's your wand."

"You already gave it to me," Harry said as he pulled his wand from inside his own shirt. "You gave it to me earlier."

Robert looked at the wand in Harry's hand and the one in his own. They were clearly the same.

Hermione laughed at the look on Robert's face. "Now you know why you had to go back in time with us."

Robert laughed as well. "I must assume then that Harry needs his wand. Then why are the two of you here?"

"We need to do something. At least Dumbledore said we did." She looked over Robert's shoulder. "You're coming back from practice. We should hide."

"We do not have to," Robert said. "I did not notice anything. It is already dark. If you will excuse me, Harry, I will try to find you." They smiled at the jest. There was enough barking from the dog. Robert could easily follow the noise.

As he left, Hermione's smile dropped away. "I wish I could stop him."

"He has to do this," Harry told her. "You know that. If we stop him, we all die. It would make an interesting paradox, but I prefer this outcome." He put his hand on Hermione's shoulder. "There is still the chance he may recover."

Hermione nodded. She had a task to do. She needed to raise an alarm without actually doing so. She motioned Harry to follow her to Hagrid's hut. There as they expected was the hippogriff, Buckbeak. Hagrid had introduced them to the animal previously. They insisted on meeting the creature that almost (that should have, Ron claimed) bit Malfoy.

She and Harry approached the hippogriff carefully. Both sighed in relief when it recognized them and nodded. Hermione quickly untied the hippogriff and began to lead it away. She knew that the people in Hagrid's hut would be out shortly but she needed Buckbeak to make a disturbance. As Harry opened the gate and ran to the agreed upon hiding place, Hermione made the effort to tell Buckbeak what she wanted him to do. The creature surprised her by nodding, then doing nothing. Hermione backed away, but was exasperated by the hippogriph just looking at the open gate.

Hermione tried pushing Buckbeak but the hippogriph pushed back, making a noise when she fell on her rump. She was positive it was laughing at her.

Hermione frowned as she stood up, trying to think of what to do. It had seemed like such a simple idea. Then her frown became a smile as her foot kicked a loose rock. Picking up the small rock, she said insincerely, "I'm sorry, Buckbeak," and she threw the rock at the Hippogriph's flank.

Buckbeak out a screech. It ran around the corral it was in and continued to screech. Hermione ran around the side of the hut as the door opened and people began coming out to see what the racket was about. The hippogriff ran out of the gate in the direction that Hermione had hoped, much to her relief. The men gave chase.

Hermione crossed her fingers. The moon was just beginning to rise.

* * *

Robert ran as quickly as he could. He knew that he was not told something, that he could not be told something. He knew Pettigrew would escape, and he knew Harry would have to let him go. And suddenly he realized why. It was night, and shortly, the full moon would rise. Remus Lupin had been so intent on catching Pettigrew that he had forgotten to take his potion.

In the dim light of dusk, he could make out the various figures. Three adults, three teenagers. One adult, obviously Uncle Remus, had his wand pointed at Pettigrew. It had to be Pettigrew. Robert recognized the other man as Sirius Black. Sirius Black was trying to control his anger, trying not to kill the traitor.

"Harry," Robert said quickly as he came up to his brother, "You may need this." Sirius Black was heard to gasp as he saw the twins together for the first time, but Robert turned quickly to Remus Lupin. "Uncle Remus," He shouted. "Your potion."

Remus looked up, startled, saw Robert and Harry both holding wands. "Make sure he doesn't escape." As the two boys, and Ron and Hermione, trained their wands on Pettigrew. Remus reached into his pocket and pulled out the forgotten potion. He pulled off the cap as the first sliver of moonlight shown over the horizon.

In a gasp of pain, the potion was dropped. Sirius Black pulled away from looking at the twin boys to see his friend begin his transformation. At the same moment, Pettigrew changed shape.

"Find him," Sirius called as he tried to pull his friend away. "I'll keep Remus safe."

Sirius changed into a dog as Remus completed his transformation and quickly forced the enraged wolf away from everyone else and into the Forbidden Forest. Pettigrew suddenly reformed as a man, directly behind Ron, and grabbed his wand. He hit the boy with surprising strength and threw him to the ground. The snapping sound of a bone was heard as Ron tried to break his fall. Pettigrew backed away as Ron writhed on the ground.

"Don't worry, Harry. I won't try anything on you. I know about your little trick. But if you and your friends don't drop your wands I will do something to him." Pettigrew pointed his wand at Ron.

"Expelliarmus," Hermione called out, then added casually to the now empty handed Pettigrew, "I don't think Ron has to worry. "

Suddenly three noises were heard. From Hagrid's hut the hippogriff could be heard screeching. At the same time, a rustling was heard in the woods nearby. The third noise was Harry letting out a low moan as he fell to one knee clutching his scar. Despite his condition he still had his wand trained on Pettigrew.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, then saw them. Dementors. She looked to Harry, who nodded to her, then watched as he told Pettigrew to either help or leave. Pettigrew looked toward Hagrid's hut, the newly risen full moon shining full on his face. He chose to leave. A second later, a rat was running toward the Forbidden Forest.

"Get ready, Robert," Harry said, "We can do this. Hermione, try to get Ron back to the castle, we will hold them off."

Robert, ashen faced, nodded, and tried to think a happy thought, and found one. He turned to Hermione and said in a strong voice, "I love you." On saying that, the shock of feeling so many dementors dissipated and he was prepared for the task. He raised his wand as he had done in practice so many times and shouted the Patronus spell. A White Raven formed in the air in front of him and flew at the dementors, holding them at bay. A White Stag joined it, and Harry and Robert began to back away as Hermione tried to drag an unconscious Ron. Robert grunted under the strain, then saw the stag falter. As he watched, the stag disappeared and Harry collapsed to the ground. He stepped in front of his brother and tried to maintain his control but he noticed the Raven beginning to fade. In his fear, the Patronus vanished completely and the dementors approached unhindered. The first one seemed to grab him, and Robert was forced to look in its face. He could smell the stink of the creature as it brought its head down to his. He was already unconscious when another Stag, shining powerfully, knocked the dementor away.

* * *

Hermione watched from her vantage point. The Minister of Magic, along with Hagrid, Professor Snape and three men and women from the Ministry, had stopped to stare. In a tableau, they saw Sirius Black as a dog and Remus Lupin in werewolf form near the edge of the forbidden forest. Henry Somerset, nee Harry Potter, was with his brother and his housemates guarding a lone figure. Five of the six people recognized him. But the last part of the scene was what caught their attention. Dementors were flooding the school grounds and heading straight for the small group.

* * *

Harry struggled after he fell and saw his brother in the hands of the dementor. He raised his wand feebly and half uttered the spell. To his surprise and delight the stag, stronger than before, attacked the dementor and forced it to drop his brother. Smiling in relief, Harry fell back unconscious.

* * *

Her part had been so easy, Hermione thought, as she tried to rejoin Harry without being seen. She found a good hiding spot and tried to make out where Harry was. She spied him quickly, knowing where to look. He had his wand raised and was casting the Patronus Spell. The brilliantly shining stag would hold off the dementors until the help arrived. It would not be long. Hagrid and the others were racing across the field toward them.

"How curious," Albus Dumbledore said from behind her. "Remus dropped his map. I found it and thought to check on Harry and Robert. Imagine my surprise when four dots appeared."

"Is that how you knew?" Hermione asked.

"I suppose it is," Albus told her with a smile. "I assume I am not needed here, and that everyone will be heading for the infirmary. If you and Harry go to that side of the school, you will find a secret door left open. And now, if my judgement is correct, I must stop Robert from going to dinner."

Hermione grinned at the thought that the Headmaster had understood everything from one simple glance at the Marauders Map. She looked up to tell him but he was already gone. By the time she turned back the stag had disappeared, but other Patroni had taken its place and the dementors were beaten back.

It was with great relief that Hermione rejoined Harry. They knew what would happen next and knew they were not needed. They watched Hagrid and the Minister lead everyone back to the school then went inside by means of the door that Dumbledore had left open. Curiously, it disappeared as soon as they closed it behind them.

* * *

Hermione sat next to Robert's bed and held his hand, although it felt like ice. Madam Pomfrey tried to console her, then left her to sit. Harry stood in a corner, not knowing what to do. His brother was dying.

There was a knock on the door, and Father Maurice entered the room. Behind him was an old priest wearing an eye patch. The priest smiled at Harry, then proceeded to Robert's side. Father Maurice gently urged Hermione to step away and let Father Peter do his work but the priest waved his hand. Hermione was to stay.

Father Peter stood on the other side of the bed and looked at the unmoving boy. He gave Hermione a warm smile and whispered in a harsh voice. "Watch." He pulled down the blanket and opened Robert's shirt, laying his right hand on the bare chest. The left hand he placed on the boy's forehead. Then Father Peter began to pray.

Hermione watched the strange scene as she continued to hold Robert's hand. She had heard of the laying on of hands but had never witnessed it. For almost an hour the priest made his silent prayers, his lips moving but no sounds coming out.

"His hand," Hermione said with a surge of surprise and joy. "It's becoming warm."

Robert awoke briefly to find his hand pressed against Hermione's cheek. He tried to tell her not to cry but he was too tired. Instead he felt into a natural sleep.

* * *

"It was Pettigrew," the Minister finally acknowledged after Hagrid and one of the men and the woman who accompanied the Minster swore to sign affidavits to that effect. MacNair was the only one to continue expressing his doubts, but that was because he had his own plans.

Dumbledore had forced the issue by stating that all four of the students now in the infirmary had seen the man, and talked to him. He was forced to add that, because of circumstances, one of those students would not survive.

Cornelius Fudge, however, would not accept the responsibility. The students had known about the dementors. Remus Lupin, who was supposed to have his condition under control, had failed to take his potion. Sirius Black had proven to be an illegal animagus. (So had Peter Pettigrew but that was beside the point.) If anyone were to be blamed for what happened, it should rightfully be Dumbledore for permitting a Werewolf, of all things, to live on the school grounds. MacNair vocally agreed with the Minister.

By the end, a decision was made. Dumbledore was given the task of explaining away the injuries to the Somerset boy to the empire and appeasing them. Remus Lupin was to be banned from the school and its grounds and, in what the Minister considered a stroke of genius, Sirius Black's case would be reopened provided he remained on the school grounds. Fudge even suggested he be offered Lupin's former position as a gesture.

Albus objected to none of this because of one fact: the dementors would be leaving. Nor did he tell the Minister that Robert Somerset was now sleeping comfortably because of a Healer from that other world, so barbaric and backward, while Madam Pomfrey was helpless to do anything.

* * *

Father Maurice Pannier finished his breakfast and walked to his office. He met with several students that morning, fifth years preparing for their O.W.L.'s. He smiled easily as he talked with each of them. When he first came to Hogwarts his position was supposed to be a decoration, but many students found it easier to discuss problems with an adult who was not a teacher or a parent. He was keep busy on most days.

Shortly before noon there was a knock, and Remus Lupin walked in.

"Remus, you should not be here."

"They let me get my things," Remus said sadly. "I need to ask a favor."

Father Maurice nodded, knowing what the man would ask. "If I can do it, I will."

"Professor Quirrell told me about a cure."

"Did he tell you everything?"

"He did," Remus admitted. "I told him I would think about it. I didn't. But after last night . . . with Harry there, and Robert and . . . If not for Sirius . . ." He stopped talking as a sob broke his voice. "I want this more than anything."

Father Maurice reached into his robes and pulled out the control stone he always carried. "Come, Remus. Take my hand." As Remus grabbed hold of his hand, Father Maurice set his will upon the stone, and the two men removed to another world.


	31. Blessings and Curses

Chapter Thirty One: Blessings and Curses

Robert slowly opened his eyes to see Colin Creevey sitting at his bedside. Colin smiled warmly. "Are you hungry, Robert? I can call Madam Pomfrey."

"Famished," Robert answered, "but . . . why am I in the infirmary?"

"Don't you remember?"

"I remember . . ." Robert paused in thought. "I remember a strange dream, Colin. Hermione was sitting where you are now, but she was crying. And Harry was standing over there, in the corner. I was flying above my bed and looking down at myself when Father Peter walked in, (you do not know him but he was with me when I was kidnaped). He looked up at me and said, 'My Lord, it is not yet your time. You must return.'" Robert paused again, looking Colin in the eye. "It was a strange dream."

"Maybe, but I do know who Father Peter is. I talked to him yesterday. He told me how he knew you."

Robert stared in surprise. "I could believe you had met Father Peter, but he could not have told you anything. Father Peter cannot speak. He has no larynx, no voice box."

"That explains his harsh voice," Colin admitted. "But he can talk, after a fashion. You'll see."

Later that day, Robert did see. Father Peter visited him in his sick bed and they had a wonderful conversation. Robert did notice how the priest managed this interesting feat. The old man would inhale to talk, forming the words as the air passed over his lips and tongue. It was a harsh voice indeed, but it was easily understandable.

* * *

"You're supposed to be dead," Malfoy said when he spotted Robert in the hallway. He was obviously upset.

"Madam Pomfrey has amazing talents," Robert replied with a smirk. When the old priest cleared his throat, Robert excused himself. "Forgive me, Father Peter. This is a fellow student, Malfoy, and his housemates, Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy, this is my former History Professor, Father Peter Smalling."

"It is my pleasure," Father Peter said as he extended his hand.

Malfoy gave the hand a gruff look. "I hope you mind if I don't shake hands. You might have something."

Father Peter smiled kindly and made the Sign of the Cross. "I understand, my son. In Nomino Deus. Go with God." He turned to Robert. "We should not keep this young gentleman from his classes, My Lord. Perhaps you will show me this ship of yours?"

Malfoy laughed as the priest walked away. "Do you believe that barmy old coot," he said to his friends. "I insulted him and he didn't even know it. Those people are not only barbaric. They're ignorant as well." Still laughing, the three made their way to Transfiguration.

Malfoy sat down and waited patiently for the class to begin. Professor McGonagall told them their lesson for the day and gave them a demonstration. "You are to turn your flower into a flute. This may seem simple but you will be changing an animate object into an inanimate object. There will be extra credit if your flute has etchings or other distinguishing characteristics. Does anyone what to try first?"

Draco raised his hand. Being first meant that he was done with the lesson. He stood up confidently and raised his wand in the proper manner, pronouncing the spell properly. His flower remained a flower. "Sorry, Professor," he said sheepishly. "I wasn't concentrating." He focused his thoughts and tried again to no avail. After his third attempt, he threw down the wand. "There's something wrong with this blasted thing."

Professor McGonagall rebuked him for his remark, and picked up his wand. "Lumos," she said, and frowned when the wand did nothing. "It seems you are correct, Mr. Malfoy. Why don't you try someone else's wand?"

Draco grabbed Goyle's wand and tried again. Again, nothing happened. McGonagall looked surprised and took Goyle's wand from Draco's frustrated hand.

"Lumos."

The tip of the wand shown with a bluish light.

Draco stared in surprise. "That's impossible. Give me tha . . . Excuse me, Professor. May I try again?" McGonagall handed him the wand and Draco waved it calling out, "Lumos." After a short pause, he began waving the wand frantically, shouting, "LUMOS. LUMOS. LUMOS." He threw the wand down and grabbed Crabbe's wand. "LUMOS."

Defeated, Draco sat down with a stunned expression. He could not perform magic, not even the simplest spell. Then anger filled his face. "It was that old man, the one with Somerset." His voice was little more than a hiss. "He cursed me."

"He spoke Latin at him," Goyle offered.

"And what did he say?" McGonagall asked with concern.

"In nominus duce?" Goyle replied, not sure if he was correct.

"Deus," Crabbe corrected.

"In God's name?" McGonagall was perplexed. "Malfoy, you are clearly upset. That isn't a curse. The priest was merely giving you a blessing." When Malfoy gave her a confused look, she added, "It's what they do. Perhaps you should see Madam Pomfrey. You may have contracted an illness and it may be contagious."

As everyone tried to edge away from him, Draco asked, "What about my wand?"

"Take it with you, of course."

Angry and confused, and slightly afraid he might really be sick, Draco slunk from the classroom and made his way to the infirmary. Twenty four hours later, he was fine but his wand still wouldn't work. He was forced to contact his father to take him to Ollivanders.

"Good Afternoon, Father Peter," Harry said, as the old man and his escort neared the ship, and the students.

"Hello again, Lord Doppleganger," The priest said with amusement. "I see you have been keeping my former pupil out of trouble."

"As much as I can, Father. As you can see, it is very difficult." As they shared laughter, Harry thought to ask, "Robert, are you well enough for classes?"

"Madam Pomfrey forbids it. I must wait until after the weekend. Instead I have been showing Father Peter around the school. Father Peter, these are my fellow cadets, Ron and Ginny Weasley, and Susan Bones. And the man on the deck is Captain Grissom." Robert turned around to point to another student who was running as fast as he could from the school. "And that is Colin Creevey. Colin is always noted for his promptness."

Susan Bones stepped forward and shook Father Peter's hand. "Thank you, Father, for what you did for Robert."

The priest actually blushed. "It is my calling, child. I must help any and all who are injured, and bless any who have crossed the path of the Dark Lord."

"The Dark Lord?" Susan asked with trepidation.

"The Devil, child. The Father of Lies. I refer of course to those who have been touched by Black Magic."

"He blessed Malfoy," Robert said and he and Harry grinned.

"Made it," Colin said as he ran up.

"On time, as usual," Captain Grissom said from behind the group. "Lieutenant Creevey, if you have time it would be easier to leave earlier. Then you would not have to run."

"Um, Harry," Ginny asked as Grissom took Father Peter aside to exchange words with him. "Why is it funny that he blessed Malfoy?"

"It was really a curse, wasn't it?" Ron asked eagerly.

Harry laughed. "No, it was a blessing. Father Peter is gifted in two ways. He is a healer, as we well know but he is also . . ." He stopped as Robert grabbed his arm.

"Harry, perhaps we should leave it at that?"

"I'll tell them," Colin warned. "Father Peter told me, because I'm part of this group. And they're part of this group, too."

Robert nodded. "But it can go no further."

"Besides," Colin added, "the rumors are already starting. The Slytherins have been talking about Malfoy, and Madam Pomfrey is keeping him in the infirmary."

"And why is that?" Ginny asked, with Ron and Susan echoing her.

"Well?" Colin asked.

"It is this way," Robert explained. "In our world we have long been aware of magic, and termed it the tool of the devil. The initial power of the church was from priests and nuns who had the ability to suppress magic in all its forms. This trait was passed on, of course, through their children."

"Their children?" Colin asked. "Then priests and nuns can marry in your world?"

"Unless they are missionaries," Robert explained. "Otherwise, the only restriction is that both must have taken holy orders. A priest can only marry a nun."

Susan was bemused. "What if they fall in love with someone who isn't a priest or a nun. Would they have to leave the Church?"

"Or the other person would have to take on the cloth. But that question is beside the point. The point being that, in my world, when you enter a church all magic is nullified. Every church has been blessed and consecrated by an Archbishop. If you have been affected by magic, you simply enter a church and seek out the nearest priest or nun and ask for a blessing. The effects of the magic are gone. Unless it is someone such as Father Maurice. He has no talent in any respect."

Ron grasped it first. "Malfoy can't do any magic. How long will it last?"

"As I have said, Father Peter is powerful in this respect. Malfoy should recover some time tomorrow, but his wand will not. It is now nothing more than a stick."

After the class, which Father Peter and Robert observed, Colin asked Robert a question. "If he's so powerful, why isn't he a bishop or something."

Robert grinned. "For the same reason he teaches history. He loves to read and study. I was told once that he was more powerful than the Pope in Avignon, but he has no mind or interest in bureaucracy. After all, Colin, what good would a Pope be who was more interested in reading the old tomes than in the current affairs of the Church?"

* * *

The Lord Seneschal entered the chamber and genuflected. "Your Gracious Majesty."

"Please rise, My Lord," His Majesty said in ill temper. "What is known?"

"Your nephew lives, although it was a near thing."

A sigh. "That is the news We have been praying for. We thank God, and Father Maurice for his quick thinking."

"There is other news, Your Majesty. Lord Darcy has reported success in his investigation. Professor Quirrell has been informed of this and has dispatched a team of scientists, all Master Sorcerers."

"No journeymen?"

"It seems that Professor Quirrell does not wish the spy to know too much. We wish to keep the Poles thinking, preferably about the wrong things."

His Majesty nodded. "While it has been useful to let this spy wander unmolested, his usefulness is at an end. Order Captain Smollet to turn this agent or remove him."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Lord Seneschal, The school, Hogwarts. Find out when the end of the school year is. I think we should make a demonstration against these wizards." He paused. "Have our researchers found anything that is useful to us?"

"In some areas. Literature and Music, especially."

The King scowled. "Even the Poles have Literature and Music, and before you say it, they also have Art. We were asking about Science."

"Nothing, Your Majesty. All of their spells are based upon their amplification devices. Almost all of them use power and little skill. Nothing that could be used to help the general population. Their muggle scientists have made achievements that we could possible duplicate, but even there we are faced mostly with means to destroy ourselves quite easily." The Lord Seneschal remained quiet, although he was trying to formulate a sentence. "Your Majesty, this world we have contact with. It is horror within horror. Nowhere do I see any cohesion, no common purpose. In one of their books I came across a phrase which described it perfectly."

His Majesty nodded. He knew of that phrase. "Every man for himself and God against all. Lord Seneschal, We will visit this horror and see what effect reason has upon it."

"Will reason carry a sword?"

"And use it if needs be."

* * *

April faded from the Calender and May took its place. Sirius Black became a familiar sight at the school and became a favorite of the more adventurous students. He would readily tell stories about the old days and of the Marauders. The Weasley Twins were regular visitors but they would always talk privately with him. Ron told Harry it was because they were planning on opening a joke shop when they graduated. "They figure Sirius Black could give them some good ideas."

Harry laughed. "If half of what I have heard is true, I think they are trying to make him a partner."

Ron looked shocked, then nodded. It was obvious once you thought about it. "There's Hermione."

They turned from where they were sitting by the lake and waved. Old enmities forgotten, Hermione and Ron were friends again as though nothing had ever happened.

"More studying?" Harry asked as he looked at the book in Hermione's hand.

"No," Hermione said. "I wanted to check on something after Robert told me about his conversation with Father Peter."

"You mean the day he blessed Malfoy?" Ron asked with a laugh.

Hermione nodded. "Exactly. And I found out something interesting. Where's Robert?"

"He's talking with Captain Grissom," Ron answered. "He'll be here in a few minutes."

"Good, I found out about Remus Lupin."

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"I know where he went, and why. He went to your world, Harry. They're going to cure him. They're going to banish the curse." Hermione's smile was immediately matched by Ron, but both frowned when Harry did not join them. "What is it, Harry?"

"I know about Uncle Remus. I know about the cure."

* * *

Captain Grissom now hosted Sirius Black on his ship instead of Remus Lupin. Sirius and Remus were as different as night and day, and as a result the frigate had a different atmosphere. It also received a name. One day, after talking with Grissom, Sirius Black obtained a bottle of Ogden's Fire Whiskey and christened the ship. Dumbledore used his wand and the name appeared on the stern: Sea Wolf.

Sirius was aided in his recovery by a meeting with Father Peter before he returned home, and came away with an initial opinion of amazement that such a thing was possible. He was one of the few wizards who held the Empire in respect.

On this particular evening, Sirius was sitting at his dinner, completely unaware of the sounds around him in the Great Hall. Tonight was the night of the full moon and his mind was on his friend. He could only hope that Remus would be safe.

* * *

Remus Lupin stood nervously in the large circular room. The time had come for his cure and he was anxious for it. The moon would rise within the hour and he feared this transformation more than any other. He had no potion, and there were no chains or cages. Unless this windowless room was the cage. The single door opened, and the Grand Master walked in followed by twelve Master Sorcerers.

"Goodman Lupin," The Grand Master said courteously.

"Master Sorcerer," Remus replied with a slight bow. "Um, I suppose I should stand in the middle of the room?"

The Grand Master was surprised for a moment. "I should apologize, Goodman Lupin. This is the first time that the person is my charge has wanted my services."

"And I fervently pray for your success," Remus added.

The Grand Master gestured, and Remus took his place on the dias in the center of the room. He looked down in amusement at the recessed bar which normally did hold chains. The Grand Master began to chant the spell in the old Latin. At certain points the other Sorcerers would join in, each waving a wand of some wood or metal, or tossing powders into prepared braziers until the room was thick with smoke. At the conclusion, all shouted "Finis" then fell into silence and quietly marched out of the hall.

Father Maurice entered and walked toward the wizard. Remus Lupin was smiling.

"I can feel it, Maurice," he said with a laugh. "Or should I say I can't feel it?"

"Come with me, Remus," Father Maurice said in a voice that shared his friend's cheer. "See the fruits of our labor."

Father Maurice led the wizard from that room, across the corridor and into another room. Remus smiled at Harry and Robert, who were standing there with Dumbledore, but continued to follow the priest. Father Maurice opened the doors leading out to the balcony, and led Remus outside. On the horizon, the first sliver of the rising moon could be seen.

Remus clutched his chest in anticipation, but no pain came. He stood there and watched, saying nothing as the full moon rose into the sky. He had never seen such a sight since that time long ago when he was just a boy.

Someone stepped up next to him, and Remus saw Xavier Pantely, his doctor. "Xavier, it is all I have hope for."

"But what you have lost, Remus."

"Is nothing to what I have gained." Remus smiled. "I suppose you will no longer be my doctor."

Xavier smiled in return. "I suppose I could have 'one' muggle patient."

Both men laughed, then went inside. There was a celebration to be made.

* * *

The sullen man saw nothing as the coach rode through the streets of London. The excitement of his cure had faded and reality had set in. His old life, good things and bad, was gone forever, and he had no thought as to how he would live. The offer of employment that he accepted would at least give him something to do.

Remus looked out of the coach as it approached a familiar house. The townhouse of the Marquis de London. The coach stopped and he stepped out, pausing to pay the driver. He walked up the path and knocked on the door.

"Goodwoman Charity," he said when a familiar face opened the door.

"Goodman Remus," Charity said as she let him in. "Lord Darcy told me that we should expect you. I should inform you, for the future, that the servants always use the rear entrance. But do not fear, you are not a servant yet."

Remus smiled. "Lord Darcy seems to think that I would be a good Groundskeeper for Lord London's country estate. I hope I can prove he's not wrong."

Charity smiled warmly and put her hand on his. "I must tell you, Goodman Remus. Lord Darcy strongly suggested that I permanently manage the country house. He said I would be helpful to you in your new job."

Remus looked at Charity's hand, and at her smile. "Is Lord Darcy trying to play matchmaker?"

"He was very open about it. He thinks we would work well together." Charity gave an impish grin. "Lord Darcy also told me I should inform you of his suggestion." She lowered her eyes and added softly. "As I thought about it, the idea began to seem quite pleasing."

Remus almost laughed. While the matronly woman was almost his age, she always seemed gruff if she did not get her way in running the house. But the idea had a certain appeal. It was an idea he had never dared to entertain before. "It seems . . . interesting. I will have to think about it."

Charity gave him a smile which transformed her face, and touched his heart. "Then come, Remus. Lord Bontriomphe will need to interview you. It is a mere formality."

The Remus Lupin who entered the library to meet Lord Bontriomphe was not the same man who had entered the house. This Remus Lupin was eager to live his new life.

* * *

"What will happen to him?" Harry asked after he and Robert returned with the Headmaster, arriving in Dumbledore's office.

Albus chuckled. "Lord Darcy, at his wife's urging, is trying his hand as matchmaker. It may not succeed, but Remus will have at least one friend he can talk to. And that is what he needs the most."

Robert took on a bemused look. "Um, Aunt Charity. It has a certain ring to it."

"A wedding ring," Harry mused. "If she has her way, brother."

"Then we should ponder a gift, brother. Something funereal, I should think."

* * *

John IV read the report in front of him. It was dire news. Naval Intelligence had managed to ensnare the spy, but the results were not expected. He looked up at the Chief of Naval Intelligence and frowned. The members of the council, seated at the table with him, said nothing.

"Captain Smollett, you are positive this is not a ruse? The Poles have schemes of their own"

"Your Majesty, we verified much of the information he gave us. It appears that the Turkics has an interest in what we are doing. From appearances, they wish to interrupt our efforts."

John IV frowned. The Caliph of Baghdad was the nominal ruler of the Turkic world. This consisted of most of Arabia and the northern coast of Africa as well as the southern part of Grenada. He had little authority in civil affairs, but he was powerful in the theaters of religion and war. John IV did not have to be told how he learned about the control stone, but he had to worry about what the Caliph intended.

"How is our knowledge?"

Captain Smollett smiled. "Quite up to date. All powerful men have enemies. This information we were given connected the points for us. We knew what they were doing. We now know why. Therefore, we may anticipate."

"With you approval, Your Majesty," the Lord High Admiral requested. "I am already placed the fleet on a war footing. We are calling all officers to active duty." He paused knowingly. "Do you wish any exceptions to this order?"

"Were it truly Our choice," His Majesty said heavily, "We should wish to exempt everyone. We know to whom you refer, but they must especially come."

The Lord High Admiral nodded. John IV paid his mind when military strategy was taught him. Both Somersets would be targets, but both could also be effectively used as bait, if they were used properly. Also, Lord Henry's reputation made him useful as a recruitment tool. As the conversation turned to the Field Marshall and other points involving the Army, the Admiral began to consider possibilities.

"Your Majesty, if I may interrupt?" he asked at one point, with no idea of what was being discussed. Nothing was said, but the entire group became quiet. "Your Majesty, it has been known for some time that both the Caliph and His Christian Majesty, the Emperor of Roumeleia, have been arming themselves for over a year in preparation for hostilities."

"Dear God In Heaven," Captain Smollett uttered. He suddenly understood the point his superior was about to make.

"I find it unusual that in the course of this buildup there has been no verifiable incident between the two. I suggest the possibility that both these governments are in secret alliance."

"But we have an agreement with Constantinople," The Lord Seneschal pointed out. "We have even dispatched a fleet to the eastern Mediterranean in case . . ." He paused. A treaty was only good as long as both sides wanted it to be. "They are sailing into a trap."

"How far away is the fleet from Constantinople, My Lord?" His Majesty's face was grave.

"Our timetable is to place the fleet in their waters the day after tomorrow. They are taking a leisurely pace, so that the smaller ships do not stray too far from the four dreadnaughts."

"Four?" Field Marshal Markham asked.

The Lord High Admiral nodded. "The Emperor asked for us to help with a show of force. It leaves us weak in the West but we do have the reserves and drydock at Marseilles. And we were planning on sending in a dreadnaught from the Atlantic fleet."

His Majesty sighed. "How quickly can they be recalled?"

The Admiral thought quickly. A teleson call to Dover. A cutter to race across the Channel. Another teleson call to Paris. He briefly damned the fact that no means had been found to lay a cable across the channel. "We could have the orders to Marseilles in less than half a day, but it would be three days more to reach the fleet with the faster ship available. That would be the quickest route."

King John pondered the situation, his mind flying on tangents to find anything useful. Then it settled on a young girl with bushy brown hair who had a curious cat.


	32. Call to Arms

PART V: WAR

Chapter Thirty Two: Call to Arms

Robert was sitting at a table in the common room with Hermione. Across from them were Ron and Susan. Harry was sitting near the fireplace talking with Cedric Diggory about Quidditch. This weekend was supposed to be the final match of the year, between Gryffindor and Slytherin. He looked at Hermione with an amused thought. "You spend more of your waking hours here than in Gryffindor."

"Next year, you'll have to visit me all the time."

"Done and done," Robert said with a laugh.

"And now," Hermione asked, "do you know the answer? Which potion would you use?" She paused, then added, "It will be on the final exam."

"I am too busy thinking about Quidditch," Robert told her. "We should try studying on Monday, after the match."

A klaxon sounded in the common room, and throughout the school no doubt. Then Dumbledore's voice was heard. "ALL OF HIS MAJESTY'S OFFICERS ARE TO REPORT TO THE GREAT HALL IMMEDIATELY. IMMEDIATELY."

Robert and Harry looked up at each other, then both rose and left the common room running. Susan and Ron exchanged glances and got up to follow suit. Not to be left behind, Hermione rushed after them, to find Cedric Diggory on her heels.

Harry and Robert entered the hall to find Captain Grissom standing there with Dumbledore and Hagrid. Professor Quirrell was standing behind them. Harry paused to grin at what he saw. Hedwig was sitting on Hagrid's raised arm.

When Harry left the school to travel to the Empire with his brother, he gave Hedwig to Hagrid. Although Hagrid insisted he was only watching the owl for him, Harry knew that she now belonged to the giant. But that did not mean that his attachment to her was gone.

Colin Creevey came running in, almost bowling into the group that had followed the twins. Behind him, with little surprise to Harry, was Ginny Weasley.

Grissom smiled at the small crowd. "I only need Naval Officers. The rest of you need not have come." He gave Cedric Diggory a cheerful grin, knowing why he was here. If this was going to affect the upcoming match, he would want to know as quickly as possible. Grissom's grin widened when he saw Oliver Wood run into the hall.

"What happened?" Wood whispered to Diggory.

"Nothing yet," Diggory replied, and they both became quiet.

"My apologies to the Quidditch Captains," Grissom said, "but I have received orders. All officers are to report for duty immediately. All classes are cancelled for the duration."

"Us, too?" Ron asked, half hopefully, to receive a shake of the head.

Grissom handed an envelope to each of the Somerset twins, who opened them at once.

"The Caen?" Robert said in surprise. "A dreadnaught? Is the situation serious, Sir?"

"I have not been informed," Grissom said carefully.

"Sir?" Harry asked. "I have been assigned to Naval Intelligence in London. Is there a reason for that?"

"Aye, there is," Hagrid said before Grissom could answer. "We finally found somethin' those Empire folks can use." He petted the owl. "Are ye ready, Hedwig?" He handed the owl to Harry. "I explained to her the best I could. She seems willin' ta go."

With confusion and delight, Harry held out his hand to Hedwig, who gave him an affectionate nip on the ear.

"I hate to interrupt the reunion," Dumbledore said with a mirthful grin, "but I must ask for your wands." Harry and Robert handed them over, and Dumbledore put them somewhere inside his robes.

"Sir," Colin Creevey asked. "My orders?"

Grissom looked down at the small boy. "I am sorry, Lieutenant Creevey. I wanted to give you more time. You must choose now."

"Choose what?" Susan asked, to receive stern looks from both Captain Grissom and Dumbledore.

"Between magic and mayhem," Colin quipped.

Colin's thoughts were simple. I'm only twelve. It's an adventure. I've already had an adventure. But one thought was behind them all. I can't even say goodbye.

Colin Creevey pulled out his wand and handed it to Dumbledore. The headmaster took the wand with no show of the regret he was feeling and placed it with the other wands.

"Lieutenant Creevey," Grissom told the boy, "you are to serve under me as an aide. You will be given the appropriate title as soon as matters make themselves clear. Professor, we are ready."

With little ceremony, Professor Quirrell stepped forward, producing the control stone. The Captain and the three boys joined hands with him and promptly disappeared.

After a brief pause, Dumbledore sighed and his happy facade dropped away. "It is almost time for supper. We might as well stay here."

"Professor," Ginny asked with a shaking in her voice. "What just happened?"

"Miss Weasley, their world is about to go to war." Dumbledore turned with a pained look on his face and walked toward his seat at the teachers table.

"We'll lose the Quidditch match for sure," Oliver Wood said sourly.

"I know how you feel," Cedric said consolingly. "Let's just hope they come back."

"He said war." Ron's voice was filled with disbelief.

"It's an exaggeration," Oliver said. "They just want Hufflepuff to win the house cup."

Hermione was saying nothing. After Robert's close call, Hermione had dared to make a commitment to him. She had talked to her parents about it, and other things. They approved of him, and of the fact he understood that their daughter's schooling came first. Any commitment was for after graduation. She mimicked Colin in her thoughts. I'm only thirteen. I shouldn't have to deal with this. What if something happens. I didn't even have a chance to say goodbye.

* * *

Rear Admiral Sir Anthony Alexander Ashton looked over his notes as the cartographer adjusted the fleet's position on the map. In a few hours the fleet would reach the Bosporus. Tonight they would view the lights of the Capitol of the oldest existing empire in the world.

"Sir," the lieutenant said as he entered the cabin. "It is most urgent. Captain Jarvis requests that you join him on the foredeck at once."

"He does?" the Admiral said casually, but he had already sat down his notes and risen from his desk. As he followed the lieutenant to the main deck he asked, in the same casual voice, "Is there anything unusual?"

The lieutenant looked embarrassed. "There is an owl, Sir."

Ashton pushed past the lieutenant and made his way directly to the foredeck where the Captain was waiting. A white owl was perched on the railing beside him.

"It flew on board some fifteen minutes ago, Sir. It has a coded message addressed to you, and will not let any one of us touch it. Otherwise, the bird seems quite tame."

Admiral Ashton nodded. But a Snowy Owl, even a tame one, had never been seen in these waters before. He approached the owl which immediately held out its foot so that he could remove the message. The Admiral paused, then said, "Thank you." Hedwig hooted in response, then buried her head under her wing.

"Captain, find someone who knows what an owl eats and have food and water ready for it when it awakes." Ashton and Jarvis smiled at each other. "I think he, um, it will be staying with us for a while."

They saluted and the Admiral returned to his quarters to read the message. He sat the message down. "Mister Pelton."

"Yes, Sir," a young boy said as he ran in the room and saluted.

"Inform Captain Jarvis that I request his company in my cabin for morning tea."

"Yes, Sir."

"And Pelton."

"Sir?"

"Do not run."

The boy frowned, but saluted. He turned around and walked out of the cabin with an unsteady feeling, as though he was not used to moving so slowly. He delivered his message, and the Captain said he would be delighted. Then the Captain did a strange thing. He said he would tell the Admiral himself, as he had business in that direction.

Young Pelton, who was scarcely older than Colin Creevey, and having the same duties that Colin would, already knew the ways of the ship. He always ran with messages and ran back with replies. He did not know what was going on but he knew it was serious. Then he looked up and noticed the owl.

* * *

Captain Smollett looked up from his desk. "Lieutenant, takes these to dispatch and await acknowledgment."

Harry saluted and took the folder of papers. He walked briskly out of the room down the hall and into the dispatcher's office. Then he stood out of the way and waited. He hated his job. His only consolations were that he could wear his full uniform, and that he could go home at the end of every day. The dispatcher called out, "Lieutenant," and Harry took the folder back to Captain Smollett. Harry then went out into the hall and sat in his chair until he was called again.

"Harry," came the call, and Harry jumped. He had not heard his own name, except at home, since he arrived in London. Harry stepped into the office to see Hedwig. The owl gave a hoot and flew to his arm and nuzzled his check. Then she flew to the coatrack, making a perch out of it, and settled herself for a long needed nap.

"Captain," Harry dared, "May I ask?"

Smollett nodded. "The Admiral was correct in his assumptions." That was all he would say, and that would be common knowledge as soon as the word could be spread. But it was enough to cause Harry's heart to falter and to race. They were AT WAR. And he was a part of it. He dreamed and dreaded what things might come.

* * *

Lieutenant Lord Robert de Somerset was of mixed emotions. Because of the rush of circumstances, he found himself on board the Caen serving as a Lieutenant. True, he was listed as Eighth Lieutenant, which meant that every regular officer was senior to him, but it also meant that from now on he would always hold the active rank of Lieutenant. One other thing that it meant was that, at thirteen, he would be forced to perform the duties of someone who by rights should have at least two more years experience. If he failed, he would be set back. It would not be held against him because of his age, but . . .

"By the Captain's command, Lieutenant Somerset." Robert looked up to see a boy his age, the Captain's runner.

"Your message, boy," Robert said, trying to mean it, but both boys smiled at the effort.

"Call your men to order for inspection." The boy paused, then whispered "The blond man, Halperin, he's your gunner's mate. Good luck."

Robert nodded. "Inform the Captain we are prepared." As he turned to face the men in the gunnery crew that he commanded, Robert tried but failed at the moment to remember the runner's name. But he did remember the boy from his time on the Hermes.

"You are Halperin, gunner's mate," Robert asked and said.

"Aye, Sir."

"Help and prepare the men for inspection at the Captain's leisure."

"Aye, Sir."

The gunner's mate quickly gave directions to the crew, and the last minute work was finished quickly or hidden out of sight. Robert watched the crew as they worked together and tried to judge their strengths, an easy task when it is not required. When they were ready, the gunner's mate saluted and announced the fact. Robert did not hesitate in his reply. He was an officer. An officer must lead. He must always be sure of himself, even if it turns out he is completely wrong. Robert had prepared himself to reply.

"I may be new to command but I must commend you. My uncle could not have found fault with your preparations."

As Robert turned to face the approaching Captain, he noticed one seaman mouth to another the word, Bristol. By the end of the day, his crew would know who his uncle was, and hopefully apply some of that respect to him. They would be a better crew if they thought he deserved his rank than if they thought he was only a filler. It also helped that Robert had good advice on leadership from someone who was experienced. He may be a filler, but he would prove that he could fill the position.

"Captain on deck," Robert called, and everyone came to attention. The captain walked up to the crew and examined them in detail, then the gunnery. He nodded his satisfaction and told the ships clerk, "Note that everything in this section is in good order." He turned to Robert.

"You are Lieutenant Somerset?"

"Yes, Sir," Robert said even though he had met the Captain the day before at the officers briefing.

"You do not have your sword."

"This is my first commission, Sir. I did not have time."

"Someone did," the Captain said, and his lip quivered in amusement at Robert's surprise. "RUNNER."

The boy from earlier came running around the corner with a sword in his hand which he gave to the Captain. Then he stood off to one side to watch.

"It seems," the Captain said casually, "that someone wanted you to have a particular sword. And it falls to me, because of the shortness of time, to present your sword to you."

"I am honoured, Sir."

"As am I," the Captain said with surprising modesty. "I am proud to pass this sword to a new generation. As you receive honour by this sword, may you give honour to it."

Robert was surprised by the first line until the Captain held the sword out to him. He knew the blade well. It belonged to Lord James Cavanaugh, late Captain of the HRMS Bristol. It had somehow been saved and returned to his family. This was the sword that hung over the fireplace of his Great Uncle, the Duke of Cambridge.

"I will do my duty, Captain. I can do no more."

Robert took the sword, and he and the Captain exchanged salutes. Then the Captain departed to continue his inspection. Robert looked at the eighty-odd men watching him and ordered them to return to their duties. He then went to attach the scabbard to his belt.

"Let me help, Sir," Halperin offered. "You seem nervous, Sir, if I may say so."

"I am," Robert admitted with a light laugh. "I expected a sword, but never this one."

"Are you familiar with the guns, Sir? They are your command."

"Only on paper, I should say. I know what everything should do."

"It does," Halperin said with a laugh of his own, relaxing as he came to know the Lieutenant. Although he was a midshipman, he had the experience, while the young boy in front of him had knowledge. Halperin corrected himself. This was a young man in front of him, eager to learn and eager to succeed. He would grow into his position.

* * *

"Excuse me, Lord Somerset," the Second Lieutenant said as they passed in quarters. "I was told that you have a sword."

Robert dutifully took out his sword to show his fellow officer, albeit ten years his senior.

"A marvelous piece," the Lieutenant said. "With your background you should be Captain in a few years."

"You perhaps," Robert replied, happy for the complement, "but they will rank me later for ranking me earlier."

"Nonsense, there have been Captains younger than I. There was one ranked at sixteen, as you well know." He caught Robert's look. "You do not know? But your records show that he trained you?" The Lieutenant paused as his mind caught up with his mouth. He handed the sword back and apologized. "He clearly chose not to discuss the matter. I should not have spoken."

"It is my fault," Robert answered. "I should have known and never thought to ask."

* * *

Robert looked with admiration at his command. Six aft guns, 75 pounders, mounted on a rotating platform. He reviewed the men, eight to each gun, the runners, the mechanics, the firemen and the laborers. Then he conferred with the duty officers: The gunner's mate, the two gunner's assistants, and the eighth mate. It was with misgivings that he noted that the eighth mate was the only person younger than he was, but the position of mate was always a learning position. "It is what I should have had," Robert thought but dismissed the idea immediately. He was an officer, and he had to be one.

"I should ask, Mister Halperin, have the men exercised the guns at any time before my arrival?"

"Most have, Sir. Each crew has at least a couple of new men."

Robert nodded. Experienced men were being moved around to give each ship as much quality seamanship as possible. The Caen itself had not even been out of drydock a year, and any ships that were seaworthy was being fitted with all dispatch. In six months, there would be at least ten more dreadnaughts, although they would be older, reactivated, ships.

"We will put them through the paces, then. We shall see how well they run."

Robert tried to remember everything he had been taught about the firepower of a dreadnaught. He also made a point to relate any facts he remembered to the eighth mate. The boy could find himself needing that knowledge.

* * *

"Sir," the eighth mate, Marcus, called as he knocked on the door to Robert's cabin. Robert looked up from his bed and rubbed his eyes.

"We sighted Gibralter, Sir."

"Any sail or ship?" Robert asked at once.

"Three sail, one of the lieutenants said," Marcus answered, "but they fled upon sighting us."

"Or went to report," Robert said, and Marcus' grin faded. " Do you know where Mister Halperin is?"

"In his cabin I should think."

"Inform him to meet me on deck at his earliest convenience. I think we . . ."

Robert stopped as the call to general quarters was given. He jumped out of bed and began to dress. There would be no need to send any messages.

* * *

"Sir," the runner shouted. "The Captain's compliments. Prepare and ready your guns. Target them starboard when the ship begins its turn." The runner was gone.

"Prepare The Guns. Point to Starboard." Robert called out and the men rushed to their tasks. Out of habit, Robert pulled out his watch and timed them. With five seconds left to the regulation time the guns were loaded and raised. Then the ensorceled platform began to turn them to face the starboard. Robert started at a sudden noise and realized that the forward guns had begun to fire. Then he noticed the ship had begun to turn.

Perhaps a mile away another dreadnaught stood, firing in their direction. Robert pulled out his lensed scope. It had Byzantine markings.

"Number One, Mark The Range."

The first gun fired and everyone who could, watched its flight. It fell short but not by much.

"Raise The Guns Five Degrees. Prepare To Fire."

"Guns Ready," Halperin called out.

"Fire At Once."

The five remaining guns fired simultaneously. Robert smiled as three hit their mark although none seemed to be serious. He felt a small thrill of pride that his estimate had been correct.

"Reload And Fire."

Robert watched the Roumeleian ship as the second round was fired from his guns. A luck of timing had also sent a round from the guns midship as well and the enemy was faced with twelve shells racing toward it. An explosion jolted him so that he could not see the result. A shell had landed just aft of his position.

"Fireman, Check for Damages," Robert called out and turned back to his scope. At least one shell had struck home. There was a notable fire where one of the Byzantine's turrets had been. Also, another shell had struck just above the waterline. The Dreadnaught had already started its turn to retreat. Robert looked forward for other target and gaped. Their turn had brought the full enemy fleet into view.

"I count six Dreadnaughts, Halperin," Robert said as he handed his lense to the gunner's mate. "Not counting the one that is leaving. We have three, unless someone arrived in the night."

"He does, Sir. And a mess of smaller ships," Halperin replied. "Do you hunt duck, Sir?"

"I am London born and bred. Even my country house is still within the borders of the city, although barely."

"They spread out the Greatships but let the smaller ones hug the center. It would be like peppering a brace of ducks from a blind."

Robert grinned as he caught the midshipman's remark. "I may be showing my age, but if you had asked about marbles instead of ducks I would have understood at once. Are the guns ready?"

"Aye, Sir," the eighth mate said, happy to have something to do or say.

"Tell them to fire at will, between those two dreadnaughts." Robert grinned. When the small ships scattered, they would play havoc with the enemy's maneuvers.

A loud explosion was heard and felt, forcing Robert to the deck. He looked behind him to see the far right gun missing. An enemy shell, flying high, had caught the barrel of the gun and exploded. The gun reacted by tearing itself away and vanishing over the far side of the deck. The firemen were already pouring sand on the fires, and at least one other gun was damaged.

"Fire Your Guns," Robert called out. "Fire At Will."

Robert laughed at the results. As the shells landed amidst the frigates and barges, they began to scatter. Except for one which was hit directly amidship. It began to sink almost immediately. Then a second broadside hit the ships. Robert smirked. He was not the only one to think of it, but he was the first. He had to admit though that the other gun crew was better. At least two frigates were hit.

"Probably from the Ville de Paris," Halperin said, as though reading his superior's thoughts.

Robert nodded his agreement. "The Duke de Dauphin always pays for the best."

The Caen, and the other two dreadnaughts finished their turns. They were now heading away from the enemy fleet, but the fleet wasn't following. The sailing ships were crossing the paths of the dreadnaughts which couldn't pursue until they were clear. That meant that His Majesty's fleet had time to complete another turn, out of range, and head back fully prepared. Robert relaxed as he knew he had most of an hour to prepare his station.

"Cease Fire. Gunner crews, report all damage."

"Sir," the gunner's helper said. "Number one gun destroyed. Number two gun disabled. We are repairing now. Six men dead, eighteen wounded, two missing presumed dead."

The thrill of the action was gone and reality was in front of him. Robert nodded as he surveyed the damage, then turned to look at the disarray of the enemy fleet. He also wanted to hide his face. Then Halperin called. "Sir, you should see this."

Robert followed him forward and into a gangway out of sight of the crew. The gunner's mate was holding a bucket. Grateful, Robert grabbed the bucket and began to vomit.


	33. Lord Nelson's Legacy

Chapter Thirty Three: Lord Nelson's Legacy

Colin Creevey slept in his hammock, dead to the world. His had been a hectic two weeks.

When he arrived, he found himself in a strange office. The office of the chief of Naval Intelligence. The man in charge, Captain Smollett, immediately took hold of Harry (and Hedwig) and escorted him from the room.

Robert saluted Captain Grissom. "I can find my way, Sir."

Grissom stopped him. "Lieutenant, visit your home first. It may be your only chance for quite some time."

Robert saluted again, and left.

"Captain Grissom," a Naval Commander said as he entered the room with his aide. "If you will come with me." He paused to look at Colin. "Lieutenant Creevey, Lieutenant LeClerc will show you to temporary quarters."

Colin followed the older Lieutenant from the building and down the street. "Will this be your first ship?" he was asked and Colin nodded.

"I've been doing class work mostly."

LeClerc smiled. "I remember my days as a cadet, young and eager. I fear your education will advance more quickly now. Did they tell you anything?"

"Only that classes were canceled for the duration." Colin noted that they were walking a fair distance. "Where are we going?"

"There is a hotel on the next street. We will be housing you there, with other officers, until we are ready. Spies are everywhere and we do not wish to tip our hand too soon by bringing all of you to the barracks. We are not supposed to know anything yet."

Colin understood. He was not to say anything about why he was here. He was a cadet heading for his first ship and enjoying a day or two in London before he left for Dover.

Colin was ushered into the hotel and registered. He was given a room key and directions and was left on his own. He grinned in spite of himself. He was in London without supervision. He was also without luggage or money. He went to his room for lack of any better ideas. It was occupied.

"I knew it was too good to last," a tall red haired boy said. He could have been Ron Weasley's twin brother, a fraternal twin of course. He bowed politely. "Colm Gilhooley."

"Colin Creevey."

Colm looked surprised. "No chest?"

Colin shrugged. "I was told to report at once. I did and they sent me straight here."

"They'll do right by you," Colm told him. "Are you hungry? I was heading to the hotel restaurant for dinner."

Colin shrugged again. "I don't have any money either."

"Neither do I. But you don't need money. You're active now. Give them you service number and they'll seek credit from the Navy."

Colin sighed with relief. "I was afraid I'd starve to death."

As Colm walked Colin to the restaurant, he asked, "Do you know anyone in London or are you a stray like me?"

Colin paused. "I don't want to drop names."

"Please do," Colm encouraged.

"I know the Marquis of London. I was going to school with his brothers."

Colm stopped in his tracks. "You were taking classes with the Somersets? It will be hard to top that for name dropping. Where were you stationed?"

"Um, Captain Grissom told me not to say."

"Grim Peter? Colin, you have come close to topping yourself. Was he your teacher?"

Colin nodded. "He says I'm going to be his aide 'as soon as matters are settled'."

Colm put his hand on Colin's shoulder. "Colin, while we are in London I want to be your best friend."

Colin smiled. "And I want to be yours. You know something about Captain Grissom that I don't. He doesn't talk about himself."

"You've read about the Bristol, of course."

"Not really. All the books the Captain gave me were general histories, or tactical books."

"We'll start there," Colm said. "The Bristol was his first commission. He wore his sword for the first time on that ship."

"Then he was there, in '39."

Colm nodded his head. They entered the restaurant and settled into a booth. After they ordered, Colm told his new friend the story of the Bristol.

* * *

The Lord High Admiral glared fiercely at Grissom. "This is not a joke, Peter. This is all too real. Lord Henry's pet bird may, and I say may, save us from a serious catastrophe in the Eastern Mediterranean Theatre."

"Val, I can not take a serious command. I have been sitting on my laurels too long."

"You can and you will. You can adapt to any situation quickly. It is your greatest talent. And it is exactly the skill we need at this moment." The Admiral paused, then said in a lower voice, "You have never disobeyed an order in your life. And as your superior I order you to accept this commission." The Lord High Admiral held out a roll of paper with His August Majesty's seal attached.

Reluctantly, Peter took the parchment.

"What is my status?"

"We have three Dreadnaughts heading for Dover, and one at the docks. We can supply you with a handful of frigates but not much. If we are right, we have less than a week."

Grissom listened as he was briefed. Constantinople's request for a show of force was, most likely, a feint. They expected the Mediterranean fleet to be attacked and hoped that a warning could be delivered in time. As it was, they had to write off the entire fleet until they heard otherwise. Grissom had four Dreadnaughts to take to the Mediterranean to thwart any plans of the combined Byzantine and Caliphate fleets in those waters. Those fleets were expected to head out toward the Atlantic as soon as their hand was played at Constantinople Other ships were being patched together to make an Atlantic fleet until ships that could be spared elsewhere could be recalled. That, however, could take months.

Peter Grissom thought about all the Naval strategies that he had read, and he had an advantage. He had two worlds to draw on. He remembered how an England, bereft of its union with France had handled the situation.

"We abandon the Mediterranean," Grissom said firmly.

"I beg your pardon?" the Admiral asked.

Grissom walked to the map of the world that covered one wall of the Admiral's office. "This is the place I want my fleet. This is where we must build a port." He was pointing to Gibralter.

"Peter, what are you getting at?"

"It is simplicity itself, Val. With four Dreadnaughts I can hold the Straits of Gibralter from any foe, but they must stay there. We need a port. The free port at Gibralter Rock can be enlarged quickly enough to keep our ships supplied. For the present all we need to do is hold the straights and keep open our supply lines to that point. We can expand our defenses as our situation improves."

Peter de Valera ap Smith was impressed. "And that would make the Mediterranean the largest lake in the world. Our coastal defenses should be strong enough for the present." He asked conspiratorially, "did you get that idea from the other world."

Peter smiled. "Do you remember that quote I told you? 'Those who do not know history are condemned to repeat its mistakes.' Well, if you know history, you can also repeat its successes." He then added casually, "could you spare some Two Thousand Marines?"

"And a ship to carry them."

* * *

Colin looked out as the coach approached the house of Lord London. He had dared risking to ask to visit with a friend, and the response was the arrival of the coach and an invitation to supper. Colm was amazed and delighted at the pull his roommate seemed to have. He was only slightly disappointed that Colin was warmly greeted by Gwilliam, the stableman's son, than by the Lord himself.

"Colin, welcome back to London. And welcome to you, Sir. I'll take you in if you like."

Colm followed Colin and Gwilliam to the back of the house. Again, he was upset not to have entered the front door, but then neither he nor Colin were nobility. Still, he was being let inside the Marquis's house. To his surprise, they were led to the stables instead.

"Harry," Colin called out with almost no etiquette, surprising his new friend at his familiarity. "Are you staying in London?"

Harry grinned as he rubbed down his horse. "Naval Intelligence. I have the important task of delivering messages. And You?"

"Don't know. Harry, this is Colm. I met him at the hotel. He's waiting, same as me."

"Lord Somerset, it is a pleasure."

"Please, Colm, call me Harry. Then I will not have to embarrass Colin by asking your last name."

"I forgot it, anyway," Colin said with an infectious grin.

Colm was quickly made at ease by Harry's manner. He didn't act like a lord, but more like a fellow officer off duty, which is what they all were. When Harry was finished, he led them to the house with a warning that Lord London was at home.

"Is Lord London a cantankerous person?" Colm asked.

"Only when he has not had his nap," Harry answered.

"I am too old for naps," an eight-year-old boy said from the stairwell.

"Lieutenant Gilhooley," Harry said with a grin, "May I introduce my younger brother, The Marquis of London."

"Welcome to my house, Lieutenant," Lord London said warmly. "I understand that we have the pleasure of your company for dinner. Please tell me you are a better conversationalist than my brother." Without waiting for a reply, he turned and said, "Colin, will you sit next to me when we eat. I have all sorts of questions for you."

"I'd love to," Colin replied and was immediately dragged off by Lord London.

Harry saw the confused look on Colm's face. "My brother likes Colin because they are the same size." Colm smiled at the thought and Harry added, "To be honest with you, Colin is more a big brother to him than I am."

"It seems that way, but why, if I may ask?"

"Do you know my history, Colm?"

"Everyone does, to a degree."

"I first knew my brother as Lord London. We are close but . . . there is always that barrier. And it may seem odd but Colin does not understand nobility. He sees it as something one has to do. Colin looks at my brother and sees an almost nine-year-old boy who is called My Lord." Harry let out a wistful sigh. "That is why he is closer to London than I am. He can look past the title."

"But you are not jealous," Colm noted.

"Of Colin? How can you be jealous of him?"

Colm hesitated. "I was jealous of him because he had you as a friend."

"And you are wrong," Harry replied, "I have him as a friend."

"My Lord," Colm asked when Harry led him to the dining room. "You said you were stationed at Naval Intelligence. Do you know what is going on?"

"Truthfully," Harry answered, "No. All I get to do is deliver the messages. I do not write them. And I may not read them. But I expect the worst."

"As do we all."

Colin Creevey said nothing that night, or ever, about the conversation that he overheard. But he always remembered Harry's words.

* * *

Colin awoke in the morning to find Colm reading a letter he had opened. Colm heard him stir and pointed to an unopened letter. Colin's orders.

"I'm going to Dover," Colin said in a slightly confused voice. "The noon train. I'm to report to the Admiral's Flagship?"

"I've drawn the same lot, Colin. We can travel together."

"But I was supposed to serve under Captain Grissom."

"If that is true," Colm said calmly, "Then it can only mean one thing. Admiral Grissom."

"Would they make him an Admiral?"

"They have tried before." Colm exhaled heavily. "And if they did, this IS a serious situation."

* * *

Colm was right. The two of them boarded a military train that went directly to the dockyards at Dover. They, and hundreds of other officers and seamen stepped off the train and headed for their respective ships. Colm was the lucky one. As soon as they reached the Admiral's flagship, HRMS York, he gave his name to the dockmaster and was immediately assigned fifth mate. Colin gave his name and was told to stand on the foredeck and await orders. He waited three hours.

"Mister Creevey," the familiar voice called, and Colin looked up to see Vice Admiral Grissom standing behind him.

Colin saluted. "A question, Sir. Shouldn't you have been made a Commodore first?"

"Yes, and then a Rear Admiral, Mister Creevey. You are correct. Do you know why?"

Colin frowned. It was Grissom's habit to turn any question Colin (or anyone else) asked into a learning experience. "It's because I'm an officer, Sir," Colin said after a minute.

The officers standing around the Admiral snickered, until Grissom answered. "Correct, Mister Creevey, but I would have given a less cryptic answer."

"Admiral," the ship's captain asked. "I must admit that I do not understand the answer."

Grissom turned to Colin. "Mister Creevey, answer the man."

"Sir," Colin said, "I am an officer. As a sub-lieutenant I am the lowest ranking officer possible, but I am still an officer. In the event that no other officer can command, I must do so and I must have the authority to do so. That is why I am an officer."

"You have your basics down," the captain commended. "And the Admiral."

"The Admiral was made Vice Admiral. That is a jump of three levels of rank. There must be a reason. The easiest explanation is that he is to be in command. As all combined fleets must have an Admiral, it is necessary to give the Vice Admiral a rank that will permit him to keep command should he meet another fleet. It's actually the reverse of my situation."

Colin smiled at the polite applause the officers gave him. Then, Colin was unintentionally given a chance to amaze the officers.

"Now for your duties, Mr. Creevey," Grissom said with an impish grin. "You need to learn this ship backward and forward and there is not much time, so find the, um, fifth mate and ask him what his name is, then report back to me."

"Colm Gilhooley, Sir," Colin said with a grin that would have made an idiot proud.

"And I never saw him leave," one of the Lieutenants commented.

"We roomed together while waiting for our orders, Sir," Colin explained.

Grissom did not miss a beat. "Then find the sixth mate, and report to me in my cabin. Captain's mess is in forty-five minutes. I suggest you hurry."

Colin was proud of the fact that he made his report forty-two minutes later.

* * *

Colin ran though the ship every day. After the first day, he ran barefoot because his boots hurt too much. He went to his hammock tired every night, but he did learn the ship and the names of all the officers and midshipmen. And because of his position, he was present at all briefings. As a result, he had the clearest picture of what the immediate situation was. He knew all about the dangers to the Mediterranean fleet, while all Harry knew at that point was that his owl had returned with a message from Admiral Ashton.

At this same moment in time, Harry was sitting in his chair waiting to take a folder somewhere, and Colin was standing behind Admiral Grissom as he explained his plan to the Captains of all five Greatships in his fleet. To rub it in, Harry was still wondering what happened to Colin.

* * *

"This is my plan. We know that the enemy is heading toward the straights but they are not thinking of stopping there. That, however, is exactly where we stop."

"A blockade?" the Captain of the Calais asked in surprise.

"Exactly. Until we have the strength to maneuver in this area, we will, as the Lord High Admiral stated, make the Mediterranean the largest lake in the world. But we have to get there, and get there first." He unfolded a large map of the area. "If we do, the York will escort the Exeter to the free port of Gibralter. She will assist in the assault and capture of the port, then proceed to patrol the surrounding area until contact is made with the enemy fleet, which will be of an unknown size. The Calais, the Caen and the Ville de Paris will patrol the waters during the York's actions and report upon sighting the enemy. That is the best we can hope for."

"Admiral," Captain Dubois pointed out, "The Ville de Paris is the best ship in its class, and I do not brag. Should we not be the ones to participate in such an action."

"No," Admiral Grissom said clearly. "The port of Gibralter is for the long term. If events go badly, that part of the plan can be delayed or abandoned. The enemy fleet is the main problem. I want our best there when we make first contact."

Dubois smiled in understanding. "I should have asked instead what the worst scenario is."

Grissom returned the smile. "When we left Dover, the worst scenario was that they were already in the Atlantic. Tomorrow we will reach the Straits. The worst scenario is now that we will run into them in the dark. Captain Dubois, at dawn you will lead the Caen and the Calais through the Straights and begin your search. We will escort the Exeter, and if you make contact, we will cover her retreat. In case any of you are unaware, the Exeter was taken out of drydock without her guns having been repaired. She is here only as a transport for the assault forces."

"Sir," Captain Leslie interrupted. "As you know, we have a great number of skilled engineers on board the Exeter with nothing to do. I gave them the guns as a project." Leslie smiled with pride at his next statement. "We had to cannibalize the aft guns, but I can give you all forward guns, and four on the forward starboard. The larboard guns show promise but I think we have run out of time if it comes to a fight."

"Duly noted, Captain," Grissom said with satisfaction.

* * *

"Do you know where we are, Mister Creevey?" Grissom said as he watched Captain Dubois lead his ships ahead in the early dawn. "Think of that book you gave me for Christmas."

"Is that Cape Trafalgar, Sir?"

"It is. I shall admit that I almost wished to meet the enemy here. That would have been a good omen. Instead, we will have to make our own history. Would you find the Commodore and invite him to my cabin for breakfast?"

Colin saluted and went on his first run of the day.

* * *

Grissom's ship had passed through the Straights of Gibralter when he saw the smoke from the Caen. It was his first indication that the fleet was near. As the ships neared and began their turns, the captains again met on board the flagship.

"How much time do we have?" was Grissom's first question.

"We caught them by surprise," Dubois explained. "Their sails were still running with the Dreadnaughts. We have at least a full hour but I would not hope for two. We damaged one Dreadnaught when it went ahead of the fleet. We took damage during our turn, but we did have some amusement. I ordered my midship guns to fire into the sails, to shake them." Dubois paused as Captain Gill of the Caen grinned. "But some fool Lieutenant on the Caen thought of it first."

"I would like to know that Lieutenant's name, Captain Gill," Grissom said casually.

"You do know him, Sir. It was Somerset. He was supposed to fill the position until we could get someone capable."

"I should have known," Grissom said without expression. "I did train him myself."

Amidst the laughter, Colin was surprised. They were talking about Robert.

"Permanent Damage?" Grissom asked.

"Only the Caen," Dubois stated.

"One aft gun lost, another disabled," Gill responded.

"Captain, how does one lose a mounted Seventy- Five pounder?"

"It was Somerset, Sir." Everyone was grinning.

Captain Leslie quipped, "It was probably something he picked up on his own."

Colin fell to laughing with everyone else. He would have something to talk about when they went back to school. Colin stopped laughing immediately. He just realized he was never going back.

"Leslie, are you up for battle? We will line you up so you can favour your starboard."

"Well up, Sir."

"Very Well. Gentlemen, we will form as a wolf pack. I believe you know the formation. The rules are simple. When you are close enough to the enemy, fire your guns without hesitation."

"Here, here," the Captains responded.

"And Gentlemen," Grissom said in a serious tone. "Do not withdraw. Do not surrender. These five ships are all the Empire has at this time and this place. If we can not win here then we must make this a Pyrrhic victory for them. We have no choice. We must stand fast. The only other option is to let the Empire fall."

* * *

Colin watched as the Captains returned to their ships. The enemy had just been sighted on the horizon, but even at high speed they were still an hour away. It was almost enough time to finish preparations. Colin turned when he noticed movement behind and above him. The pennants were being raised. The young boy smiled as he read the message. It was not original.

"That's it," Colin said to himself as he suddenly understood something. Admiral Grissom was not an original thinker. He did not come up with brilliant, innovative ideas. But he could copy an idea. Nelson was England's greatest hero in his time. Grissom could not be a Nelson, but he could mimic him. Grissom could act as Nelson would, and in this he did. His every action was not designed to bring about a decisive engagement. There were too many things that could go wrong. But Grissom would do everything to bring out the best in the men under him. That included stealing someone else's words and claiming them as your own.

Holding the far right of the formation was the Caen. "Can you make that out, Lieutenant?" the gunner's mate asked. The crew quieted to hear Robert who was staring through his lensed scope.

"The Empire expects that every man will do his duty."

Robert did not know the origin of those words but it would not have changed the way he felt. He looked down from his scope and glanced at the faces around him. They shared his expression. They shared his pride.

* * *

Colin Creevey stood near the Admiral as Grissom observed the approaching enemy ships. They would not form a line. That tactic was obsolete. The HRMS Bristol proved what one dreadnaught could do against an entire fleet by fighting each ship one at a time. The approved method now was to try to engage an enemy ship by either coming broadside at her before she could turn, or dividing her attention with a dual attack with a companion ship. Traditionally, both fleets would swerve to one side or the other, pressing for advantage, a series of maneuvers that could take place over miles of open water and last for most of the day before a decisive shot was fired.

Grissom's plan was simple and dangerous. They would sail through the enemy fleet, targeting the enemy guns as they passed, but particularly the aft guns and the stern of the ship. (If the aft guns were silenced and, by good fortune, the rudders or possibly the engines damaged, even a dreadnaught was helpless from behind.) Once through, the dreadnaughts would harry the sails, the frigates and brigantines that often accompanied the fleet to make possible smaller actions. Upon completing the turn, weather and light permitting, the fleet would attempt to force the surrender of any disabled ship and drive off any of the others. The men on all ships knew what to do, had known all along that this was the likely maneuver, and were ready.

Colin took a deep breath as one of the Byzantine ships fired a forward gun to find the range. After days of sailing, and hours of getting into place, the battle was beginning. The next half hour would tell them if it was enough.

* * *

No one ever asked the Byzantine Admiral what he thought. It became obvious in a short time that he did not expect such a brazen move. And it was that simple fact which lost him the engagement. The ships passed each other in a matter of minutes, both sides firing hotly. But surprise and luck where on the side of the Empire, luck made by two thousand and more men all trying their best.

Admiral Grissom and Admiral Nelson shared this in common. Their men worked together and trained together. Most seaman served all their years aboard one ship. And unlike other navies His Majesty's Officers, in either world, came from the ranks. Every Captain had served as a midshipman and a Lieutenant, while in the other navies, commanding officers often achieved their ranks because of whom they knew instead of what they knew. That was the luck that these men brought to bear.

The Ville de Paris proved that its reputation was earned when she disabled the rear guns on both ships she passed between. Her aft guns disabled the rudder of one ship and blew a hole below the waterline. The Exeter, with the least guns, passed on the outside of the enemy fleet. It had little hope of doing serious damage, but the enemy could not know that. It passed with little damage but also did little damage in turn. The York and the Calais between them disabled a third ship but the aft guns could still fire. Both came under heavy fire, however, and suffered for it. They had enough energy left to shell the frigates, driving them away.

The Caen did not make the run. It started but came directly under two pair of guns. An early shell pieced her armour and started a fire below decks that could not be contained. Robert would later tell Colin all that he knew.

Robert felt the shudder and guessed what it was. Shouting was heard and he noticed the ship turn to starboard as though to intercept the enemy Dreadnaught. Then the runner appeared.

"The Captain's compliments, Lieutenant. Abandon your post and prepare to board the enemy on the starboard at your earliest convenience."

Robert did not hesitate. As the runner fled to the next station, he shouted his orders. Men grabbed anything they could use as a weapon and followed their officer. All of them knew what it meant to abandon your post. Their ship would sink, but if they took the other ship, they would live. Robert led them quickly to midship, where they had to wait only briefly.

The two ships touched, grating against each other as the men of the Caen jumped briskly whenever they saw a chance. Robert made a rolling jump and came up on his feet, amazed that he did so, but he would not tell Colin that. In Colin's version it would come out as "I landed on my feet, of course, and proceeded to lead my men against the enemy guns."

The third Lieutenant appeared suddenly and ordered Robert to organize his men, and to take the nearest guns at all cost. He then disappeared in the opposite direction leading his own group.

With half of his original crew, Robert rushed to the attack and subdued the starboard midship guns. Fighting was fierce at the first but the Greeks began shouting to each other and quickly surrendered. Robert followed their gaze and saw a wonderful sight. At the pinnacle the colours had been dropped and in its place waved the Lions and the Lilies.

As though knowing it was no longer needed, The Caen exploded.

* * *

"Oh my God," the Commodore said when he heard the explosion. He turned and tried to see through the smoke, his scope to his eye.

"What do you make it to be?" Grissom asked.

"It appears to be the Caen, Sir. I think it was the magazine exploding." The wind pushed the smoke away briefly. "She's gone, Sir, but . . . " The Commodore began to laugh. "Sir, the far Byzantine ship. The one that is slowing. You can make out her colours."

Grissom took the scope and looked. "I would call that a fair trade."

* * *

Colin was running. His message was for all guns, which meant he would be running the full length of the ship and back. It would not be the first time. He fell as a shell hit the side of the ship, blowing up part of the deck in front of him. Without thinking, Colin raised to his feet and proceeded on his way. He had cleared the immediate area of damage when he saw the body. It was the fifth Lieutenant.

Colin looked down briefly and the Lieutenant looked up without seeing him. He was clearly in shock and losing blood from a shrapnel wound in the thigh, almost to the point of severing the leg. Colin knelt down and reached into the wound, using his hands to clamp the severed artery.

"Fifth Mate," Colin called when he saw his friend standing there, frozen in surprise.

Colm Gilhooley shook off his stare and looked blankly at Colin.

"A Tourniquet, Colm. Now."

A seaman appeared, grabbed a length of rope and ran to help. By this time, Colm was moving again, and was able to help secure the rope around his superior's leg. As the tourniquet was tightened, Colin asked, "This is your first time?" and Colm nodded.

"I froze, Colin."

"So did I, my first time." Colin grinned at his friend, and noticed the seaman's scowl soften.

"I'll be fine next time," Colm answered. "I promise."

"And I'll pray there won't be a next time," Colin looked at the seaman, old enough to be his father, "for any of us."

"Amen," the seaman whispered. "She's tight now, Sir. You can let go."

Colin nodded and found the gunner's mate and relayed his message. He then ran to finish his duty. When he returned to the foredeck, the Admiral was gone, and Colin was too tired to look for him. He sat down on the deck and waited.

Two hours later, a bucket of water was dumped onto the sleeping boy. "Mister Creevey, we are fighting a war, if you don't mind."

"My apologies, Captain."

"Try calling me Admiral."

Colin opened his eyes after he brushed away the last of the water, and stood up. He noticed the Admiral and the shipboard chirurgeon. "I'm not injured, Sir. It was one of the Lieutenants."

"Stand still," the chirugeon said as he took another bucket and splashed Colin's face with some of the water. He stopped Colin from raising his hand to wipe his face and ordered the boy to wash his hands first. That was when Colin noticed they were still smeared with blood.

"Clean yourself," Grissom ordered, "and prepare yourself with a clean uniform." He looked down at Colin's bare feet. "And do wear your boots this time."

* * *

It was a parlay under flag of truce. Grissom had the upper hand and he knew it. Of the Roumeleian fleet, two ships were disabled, two was damaged, one was captured and only one was still in battle form. On the other hand, the captured ship was firmly under control. If further combat ensued, the Byzantines would lose.

Admiral Grissom made a generous offer to release all prisoners and to permit the crews of the prize and the disabled ships to be evacuated. The Byzantine Admiral had little choice but to accept. Those two ships would have to be towed, and they could not be towed under fire.

The frigates sailed up and the arduous process of transfer began the following morning. By midday, the enemy fleet had ignominiously departed. Safe for the moment, the two prizes were towed toward Gibralter while the Ville de Paris and the Exeter prepared the way. Port Gibralter, as it was officially renamed, was under control by the time the York arrived, and exhausted Marines and engineers were still working to make a temporary dock for the dreadnaughts.

Sub-Lieutenant Colin Creevey was given the chance to go ashore but used his time to gain much needed rest. It had been two weeks to the day when he had heard the call to the Great Hall, and for the first time he did not have to worry about tomorrow.

Admiral Grissom was not as fortunate. He had to spend most of his night going over the details. He knew he had won a victory but at great cost. Only the York and the Ville de Paris were battle ready. The Caen, and a third of its crew had been lost. Most of the survivors had made it to the new ship, renamed the Caen by its captors. She had surprisingly little damage but she also had a skeleton crew. The Exeter and the Calais had plenty of men but both had been hit too hard to not need immediate repairs. The two captured dreadnaughts were useless, and would be for months until they could be repaired and refitted. He would have to send them to Dover.

Two ships, Grissom thought, three if he moved men to the new Caen, to hold the straights. And the worst was that the Byzantines still had a dozen Dreadnaughts somewhere in the east. Also, the Turkic Mediterranean fleet had not yet appeared, and their Atlantic Fleet had a free hand.


	34. Ginny Ruins Her Life

A/N: I thank all of you who have been reading this, but I do feel obligated to issue a warning do to sexual content. Even though it is only referred to, and never breaks the PG-13 guidelines, I have found that there are people who are scared of that three letter word. ( I made a joke in a summary one time. The story involved swordplay and I noted that the chapter contained 'hack and slash'. The number of readers dropped by more than half.)

In truth, that word only appears once (in its six letter form) and you've already read it. Beside that, the chapter title alone should let you know that something's up.

Chapter Thirty Four: Ginny Ruins Her Life

"It's not fair," Ron scowled.

Fred and George laughed at him as they sat down on either side of him. Ginny walked over to the fireplace where her brothers were to find out what Ron was complaining about now.

"Professor Quirrell told me it was under pain of death." Ron's scowl deepened.

"And you hardly did anything," George chided.

"That's right," Fred encouraged. "All you did was talk about Quidditch."

"To a complete stranger."

"When you weren't supposed to say anything."

"Maybe that's why you can't go."

Ron looked up without humor. "You can't go either. That King put the ban on the entire family."

"That's only because they know what we're like," Fred laughed.

"Too true," George added. "We would have done the same thing you did, Ron."

"But we would have done it on purpose."

Both twins laughed.

Scowling Ron was not amused. "But what if Harry's in danger. We could help him."

"How?" Fred asked, his grin showing that he was not serious.

Frustrated, Ron called his brothers useless, and stood up to walk away.

"Sometimes, just being there can help," Ginny said in support.

"Thanks," Ron said appreciatively.

"I think Ginny's still sweet on Harry," Fred told George. The result of his remark was that both Ron and Ginny scowled as they left the common room.

* * *

Ginny couldn't get the thought out of her mind. What if Harry WAS in trouble. He had been gone for more than two weeks without any word. Something may have already happened.

Ginevra Molly Weasley would have denied it vehemently if anyone accused her of being in love with Harry Potter, regardless of what his name was now. She would admit that she was a close friend, well, a friend, and that she wouldn't mind if there was something between them, but that was normal. She could also remind anyone that he did save her life, him and Robert, but Robert was already in love with her best friend.

Ginny never told anyone but, once she heard about Pettigrew and a life debt, she 'knew' that she had one as well. That was the reason she seemed so attuned to Harry. She knew in her heart that something was wrong. She decided to talk to Professor Quirrell. A short visit couldn't hurt.

* * *

"No," Professor Quirrell said.

"No," Professor McGonagall told her.

The subject was not up for discussion.

Ginny scowled as she walked away. She looked very much like Ron at that moment. She had heard them talking about 'dire circumstances', and she was not stupid. She knew they were talking about Harry. And she had proven to everyone that she could handle herself. She proved that she had learned from her past mistakes. They were still treating her like a child and she was already Thirteen. It was her birthday. Ginny decided that she would show them she could handle herself.

* * *

Sneaking into the boy's dorm was easy, and she had made it a point never to mention that she knew how to get into Harry's trunk. Once she had the invisibility cloak it was even easier to sneak out. Now she only needed to choose her moment.

* * *

It seemed so simple. Professor Quirrell was always with someone, and he often went back and forth between worlds. On the other hand, Father Maurice was often alone, although he would only be at the school for another month. He felt an obligation to the students, and he was not needed in his own world at this moment.

She knew Father Maurice's routine perfectly. He had mentioned several times to Captain Grissom that he would often end his nap by going to his window and watching the cadets perform onboard the frigate. And so it was that they next day Ginny waited inside his office, hidden and quiet underneath the invisibility cloak. As she waited, she never once thought of whether or not it was a good idea. She had decided that someone should make sure Harry was safe. She owed Harry a life debt and therefore it should be her. Her mind was set. She would steal the stone, then use it.

Ginny Weasley was not completely foolish. She had prepared herself to make a conditional transfer to the other world. When she held the stone, she would will that it should only take her to Harry if he was in danger, although in the back of her mind was the image of her saving his life, and his being eternally grateful, and almost everybody around them would be better off as a result. In the past, she had even daydreamed about which sounded better: Mrs. Harry Potter or Mrs. Harry Somerset. Her daydreams usually ended up with her being Lady Ginevra.

Ginny listened for the steady snores and quietly slipped into the priest's private rooms where he lay sleeping on a couch. With a deftness that would have surprised her brothers, she quickly found the pouch that held the control stone and began to work it open. She grabbed the control stone, but forgot herself as she stepped away. Her foot caught on the cloak she was wearing, and she fell backward, hitting a chair.

Father Maurice was awake instantly, and saw Ginny lying on the floor, the invisibility cloak now lying underneath her. And he saw that she was dressed in the seaman's clothes that Grissom had given her to wear for her class. He also saw what was in her hand.

"Child, please do nothing. You do not understand the dangers you hold." The words were spoken softly but seemed to have the opposite effect. Ginny crawled backwards to get away from the priest as she tried to focus her mind on the stone. She tried to picture the image she had prepared. She tried to picture herself in that world, saving Harry if he was in danger.

The control stone is not as fickle as the Traveler stone itself. It must be given conditions, and if it can fulfill the conditions, it will. The circumstances were such that it could fulfill the conditions in Ginny's mind, but only because she added a variable in her thoughts: The word, 'IF'.

As Father Maurice watched in horror, Ginny Weasley faded out of existence to reappear . . . somewhere.

* * *

Captain French looked through his scope. He issued the call to set the sails to bring the Adventurer closer to the three ships in the distance. They would make contact sometime in the late afternoon if all remained on their current course. It would delay their return to Portsmouth by a few hours but they would see home soon enough.

"Mister Planck," The Captain called to the midshipman hurrying to his post. "Move along or we will be docked before you get to your place."

"Aye, Sir," the sullen fifteen year old said as he continued on his way.

The Captain nodded his approval, and set to look at the sails again. Then the call was heard from the lookout, as the Commander came up.

"A SHIP." A call came from the rigging.

"ANOTHER FRIGATE?" the Commander called back.

"NO SAILS," came the reply.

"We'll get a closer look," French said, "PILOT SET SAIL DUE SOUTH."

"AYE, CAPTAIN."

"Commander, call to quarters. Have the guns ready but the ports closed. It may be one of ours on a rescue, or even a friendly ship."

"Aye, Captain. Look safe but be ready to hit back."

The Captain moved from his larboard position to the fore. He wanted to know for certain. In the meantime, he had all the preparations made, including the use of the engines should they need to run. At four bells, 10:00 A.M., he ordered the ship around and called the officers to conference.

"The lookout has completed his count. There are at least eight Greatships, and three dozen frigates and gunboats. They are all Turkic, probably their entire Atlantic fleet, although I do not see how they could get them together without our knowing."

"Where are they heading, though?" Commander Slye mused. "I would guess Dover. Perhaps Calais. Or even both. I think they mean to invade us."

"Dover?" Lieutenant Wallace asked incredulously. "It's madness."

"Madness?" Captain French asked with a humourless grin. "To take out our two main ports by surprise attack at the beginning of a war? The madness of a genius if he can pull it off."

"But why us?" Wallace asked. "It's the Byzantines they hate."

"They hate us as well, I assure you, Lieutenant, and we did send a fleet their way to let them know where we stand. I would wager they massed their Mediterranean fleet for a surprise for the Greeks. But we are here, and we must send the alert. We head north under full sail. Once we reach land, we contact the nearest barracks in the first port we find. They should be able to teleson the message to the Admiralty. I want both of you to understand what our objective is. That fleet has sent two cutters after us, and they can catch us if we do anything but head in a straight line. All it takes is one lucky shot by one of their marksmen and I could lose my command. I want everyone on this ship to know what we are doing"

Lieutenant Wallace swallowed. This was more than a run with a privateer. "Aye, Sir. I will inform the midshipman and then tell the men."

* * *

The only good thing about Dreadnaughts is that they were slow. Any frigate could outsail them. But those ships were deadly. Their metal hides would bounce back any normal shot, and their guns were massive by comparison. One shot from them could sink any sail. A frigate had to run.

It was six bells, 3:00 P.M., when the sails were sighted. The Captain called for his scope. It was only one ship and they would intercept it if they remained on course. "Commander, set the signals for danger, and to flee to the west. We'll try to warn them, whoever they are."

"Aye, Sir, and if it is one of theirs?"

"The guns are ready are they not."

"They are, Sir."

The Captain watched as the ship came closer. "Damn them," he cursed.

The Commander came forward. "Sir?"

"That ship. She is from Roumeleia, obviously a merchant. She has pulled back her sails and turned to meet us. She will be sailing in the wrong direction." The Captain's frustration was evident.

"But our signals?"

"Are probably just colourful pennants for them. Have the pilot alter course. We will try to pass alongside and give them the warning. It is all we can do. Commander, see all men to stations."

"Ahoy, Byzantine," Captain French called to the merchantman as they began to pass. He had shouted the word Danger when a marksman shot him dead. At that signal the ports opened on the disguised sloop and eleven cannons opened up in a broadside of chain and bolts, aimed upward. The rigging was destroyed as were most of the sails. The main mast was also cracked but holding, but there was no immediate movement up top. Almost everyone who was still on deck had been killed or wounded.

One of the exceptions was the midshipman, Henry Planck, bosun's mate. He was on the other side of the ship, in the rigging, when the guns went off. As he saw the flash, he was suddenly hit by a falling body and thrown overboard, where he landed with a loud splash. Whoever had fallen into him landed almost next to him. Other splashes could also be heard.

Lieutenant Wallace was on the gun deck when he heard the noise. Without hesitation he ordered the ports opened and the guns to fire. Thanks to his quickness and the preparedness of his men, the Byzantine was still broadside to them so that twelve of the sixteen guns still hit their mark. But the men of the Adventurer were not aiming for the sails. They were aiming for the gundeck or lower. The Byzantine, not thinking of a possible return of fire, was unprepared, not that it would have made much difference. Her gun deck was a shambles. She could not fire another round.

The Commander shouted orders to all who could be spared. The engines were engaged, and the ship forced to turn. He looked for the Byzantine and saw her sailing toward the Turkic cutters. She could be ignored. But he needed to rescue his men. By his count at least a third of the crew above decks had jumped to avoid the chain. That was too many men to lose, or to abandon. As the remaining sails were cut or hauled away, Seamen ran to the sides to look for survivors.

* * *

Ginny's head popped to the surface and she spit out a mouthful of salt water. "Harry, Harry," she began to call out.

A black-haired boy came up next to her as she called out a third time. "Here," he coughed, "Thanks. I thought I was done for."

Ginny thought his voice sounded funny and turned to look at him. She could almost hear Fred saying behind her, "Oops, wrong Harry." Instead she heard Harry gasp when he saw her.

Henry was amazed but questions could be left for later. This strange girl, who had knocked him off the ropes had saved his life. But she was dressed as a seaman. And she knew how to act like a seaman. As they noticed the Adventurer turning, she did not try to swim for the ship but for where the ship would be. And she paused only long enough to make sure he could follow.

"I'm behind you, angel," he called out as he swam after her. As the ship passed in its sharp turn, they grabbed the rigging that had been laid over the side. Henry grinned again as the girl climbed up with a degree of experience. They, and the rest of the men, clambered on board and Henry took a deep breath. That was when he looked at his savior and grinned. "Will you marry me, angel?"

The girl gave him a wry smile.

* * *

Captain Slye looked over the crew once the last of the survivors was picked up. The cutters were closer but still far enough away. The Byzantine sloop had slowed them down to trade information but not enough to give the Adventurer a clear edge. All of the crew were clearing the deck of debris or tying off the ropes. Even the strange girl was helping. It was clear she had a knowledge of the sea.

"Lieutenant, do you have the casualty list?"

"Here, Sir, and I should note that among the missing are two of the boys. Our young lady could have been either of them. Probably the Hampton boy. He always overdressed, and never said much."

"And gave us the impression that he was a half-wit," Slye noted. "That girl is afraid of something. Very much afraid."

"Sir, if I may. A fair number of the boys the Navy takes as crew are runaways or orphans. Her fear is understandable. If she tells us who she is, we will send her home." The Lieutenant paused. "Regardless of what home is like."

Slye nodded. "Mister Wallace. You say that with a level of personal understanding. You made your way through the ranks?"

"Aye, Sir. I myself came on board listed as an orphan. I think I understand her all to well."

"Then I am open for suggestions. Otherwise I must turn her over to the dockmaster when we reach port." The captain paused to look aft at the pursuing cutters. "If we reach a port."

"There is one possibility, Sir, although I hesitate to suggest it because of the girl's apparent age. She saved Mister Planck by knocking him overboard as the sloop's guns fired their chains at us. Mister Planck suggested they marry. It was not a serious remark but . . ."

Slye laughed at the suggestion. "Mister Wallace, you are a master tactician. That would easily solve all of our difficulties. After all, ships in time of peace may transport an officer's wife and family. She is then free to leave this ship without fear of an inquiry."

"If she will agree, Sir," Wallace pointed out. "And if she is of age. Even then, we do have one potential problem. Under the circumstances, she will be examined by a healer when we dock, nominally to see to her health, but also to determine that this is not a ruse. The girl must be willing to do what is necessary."

Slye nodded. "A difficult choice for such a young girl, but if you are correct about her background, we can try to make it less painful. I have friends who could use a servant . . ."

"And," Wallace continued, "we must ask Mister Planck to give up all hope for future happiness."

"Perhaps some happiness," the Captain said with amusement. "I think if I wave a possible commission at him, Mister Planck will agree quickly enough. Besides, it is not as though he will have to stay married to the girl."

* * *

Ginny was expecting the summons. She reported to the Captain's cabin as soon as she could be spared. They were in such dire need at the instant that they put her to work once they knew she could handle herself. She was not surprised to see Henry Planck there as well. As both men were standing, she remained standing as well. After the day's events no one could tell that her clothes had been spotless only a few hours ago. She fit in with most of the crew.

"I know you do not want to say anything," the captain told her in a calm voice, "but if we could have at least your Christian name."

"Gine. . ." Ginny started to say, then caught herself. Ginevra might not be a common name and that alone could be enough for them to find her. Ron had said 'under pain of death'. And Harry, her Harry, had said that in this world they speak plainly. If they say they will do something, they will. She stopped herself, but the captain smiled.

"Jenny is fine. We only wanted a name. It is hard to keep calling someone 'You There'."

Ginny smiled politely but she was still nervous. The captain and crew had the wrong idea about her. They thought she had disguised herself as one of the boys on board, one of those who had been lost. She could not tell them the truth.

"Jenny." Captain Slye spoke softly. "We do want to help you. We know you do not want to be turned over to the yard when we dock, but that is what we are supposed to do." The Captain noticed her expression flicker, perhaps a flicker of hope. "And a fair number of men on this ship have had similar difficulties with their lives. We do have a solution, which you might be agreeable to."

"I don't understand, Sir."

"Well." The captain paused. "Mister Planck noted that you specifically called his name after you took him over the side with you. It appears that you are taken with our bosun's mate. If that is the case, Mister Planck has agreed to help us in resolving this issue. I need to ask, however, if you know how old you are."

Ginny suddenly understood what the captain was talking about. A woman on board at sea was not permitted unless she was family. And she knew how old she had to be to be considered an adult. She decided on the truth.

"Thirteen. Yesterday was my birthday."

The Captain nodded with relief. "You are old enough but barely. And that could work in your favour."

Ginny gave the Captain a confused look, but Henry Planck stepped up to her and took her by the hand.

"Jenny, would you consent to be my wife?"

"What?"

"Jenny, it is this way. We will have to take vows. The Captain can witness that. And we will have to consummate the marriage. But once we are on shore we can ask the church to disallow the union because of your age. And Jenny, the captain can make arrangements for you to have a place, as a maid perhaps. He has friends. You will be taken care of. You need never have to return home, if that is what you are afraid of."

Ginny's look shocked Henry, but he had no idea of the truth of her situation. He misinterpreted her fear. After all, she had revealed herself to save his life and she knew she was saving him. Somehow, some way, she must truly care for him.

"Jenny," he said urgently, "I know this must be hard for you, but it is the only way. To be honest I would not object if the marriage lasted more than one night. I will understand if you do not want to be married to me. For my part, I would want someone like you. Not only are you beautiful, you know about life at sea and you can understand me." He added as tenderly as possible, "I would be willing to commit myself to a lifetime with you because of what happened on this one day. And I will be as gentle with you tonight as I can."

Henry moved his hands to her shoulders. "The only other choice you have is the hope that you can run away again. I will not force the issue. If you think that would be better, then that is what we will do."

Ginny paused as she thought about all of her alternatives. And she thought about the stone, her best solution, that now lay somewhere on the ocean floor. She heard Henry ask once more, "Jenny, will you marry me?"

Ginny looked down and tried to think, but she had only two options. She steeled herself and quietly said yes, then cringed as Henry's hands seemed to take a possessive hold. The Captain called in the Lieutenant and the First Mate, then began the ceremony. It was deliberately brief. They held hands as Ginny said the words she needed to say and Henry his. Then he kissed her. It was also brief.

No one congratulated them. The three men left, with the captain giving the couple his cabin for the remainder of the night. Everyone looked on it as a marriage of convenience to be ended in the early morning, assuming they reached port.

Ginny jumped when Henry touched her shoulder.

* * *

It was by the first light of dawn that land was sighted, and the ship came quickly to the docks. It was a small seaport somewhere in Devon but it was along the communications lines. The message was relayed to Dover and London within minutes.

Bosun's Mate Henry Planck was relieved of his duties for the rest of the day. It was supposed to be sufficient time to settle the matter. He escorted his wife from the ship and took her to the local church. He knew she was afraid, but he was doing all that he could. He had her wait while he went to talk to the Monsignor, and was grateful when one of the sisters of the attached school offered her time. His conversation with the Monsignor was short and to the point.

* * *

"Are you Jenny?" the sister asked. "I am Sister Claire. I heard about your adventures. I hope their memories will be treasures for you in the future. I understand you are married."

"For now," Ginny said with a touch of bitterness.

"I will not judge you, child, but if I may put my hands on you."

A surprised voice. "Are you a healer?"

An amused response. "I thought that was obvious." Sister Claire touched either side of her head, talking lightly as she moved her hands to Ginny's back and chest, then her stomach. Ginny relaxed as the pains she had been feeling seemed to melt away, including the pain of marriage. "Did you want to marry him?"

"Not really."

"But he is asking my husband to nullify your marriage. I would have thought that is what you wanted."

"I don't want that either."

"Do you know what you want?" Sister Claire asked that question with a sense of importance.

"I want what I can't have," Ginny said mournfully.

"I will be honest with you, child. You must know what you want and you must decide now. I do not know what road brought you here but you must choose your path." Sister Claire placed her hand on Ginny's stomach. "For good or ill, your life is no longer your own."

Ginny's eyes bulged as she understood and fear took hold of her. "But he doesn't want me. He did it for a promotion, and for . . ."

"You will need clothes. We have some in your size that we can spare." Sister Claire stood up. "Did you ask him what he wanted?" She left before Ginny could answer

Ginny put her hand on her stomach. She knew what Sister Claire had meant but it seemed unreal. She took a deep breath and stood up, and went to find Henry Planck.

"Jenny," Henry said with a polite smile. "We were coming to get you. All you need do is make your mark on these two papers."

Ginny grabbed the first paper and ignored the quill. "Do you mind if I read it first?" She wanted to smirk as Henry looked surprised. "If I sign this, then we are officially married."

"In the eyes of the Church, and to satisfy the Navy that you were on the ship as family," the Monsignor told her, "but your husband has told me of your circumstances. You might prefer to make your mark then to sign your name."

Ginny nodded and took the quill, marking the place shown her. She handed the paper to the Monsignor and Henry handed her the second paper. She read the paper with its simple language. The marriage would be annulled because both parties realized that she was too young to understand the commitment she was making. As she read the paper, a drop of water fell on it and smeared the fresh ink. She began to cry.

"Please. I don't want to be alone."

"Jenny?" Henry was confused.

"I'll be your wife," Ginny pleaded. "I'll do whatever you want. Please."

"Child," the Monsignor said soothingly, "The Church will help you."

Ginny shook her head. Her fist was in her mouth as she tried to stifle her sobs. She felt as though she couldn't breathe. She didn't know what to do. "Please help me," she said so softly that no one heard.

Then someone pulled her into a hug and held her tight. It was Henry holding her and whispering to her that he was here, that he would be here as long as he needed her. His voice seemed to hold a grateful tone.

"Jenny," Henry whispered to her. "I told you before. I would be proud to have you as my wife. You are young, but so am I. We have time to work things out. And when you're older, and a woman . . ."

"I am a woman," Ginny said, and tried halfheartedly to push herself away.

"I know you are," Henry said condescendingly as he put his hand on her cheek.

"You don't understand," Ginny said as she took his hand and put it on her stomach. "I am . . ." She began to cry again.

Henry understood. She didn't need someone for the future. She needed someone now. If he left her, she would truly be alone. Henry blinked back a tear of his own. He was eight again and a man in a blue jacket was holding a coin. The Mother Superior was telling him to take it. He did as he was told, and the man took him from the orphanage and put him on the ship, and he cried. The sisters were gone and he was alone. Then someone came and held him. He said he would be there to help but that Henry would have to work hard. With that help, the ship became a home.

Henry surprised everyone including himself by laughing. He put his hands on either side of Ginny's head and forced her to look at him.

"Jenny Planck, you are my wife and if you are willing to put up with me, I will do everything I can for you. Do you understand?" Henry forced her to nod her head yes, and she ended up laughing through her tears. "This marriage will take a great deal of work, but if you are willing to try, I will be there to help. Will you try?"

"I will," Ginny promised. When she walked out of the church arm in arm with her husband, they were both smiling. Henry would be there if he needed her.

"Ye see," one of the seamen said as they noticed the couple.

His friend nodded, and both walked up to Henry and Ginny. "Excuse me, Sir, Goody Planck."

"That's you dear," Henry said when Ginny jumped, then turned to the two men. "That's the first time she's been called by her married name."

Both seamen grinned, and the one continued. "Begging your pardon, Sir, but when we was cleaning the decks, I found this." He pulled out a rag and showed them the control stone. "I thought it might be yours, Ma'am, because it's such a pretty thing." He noted Ginny's look of recognition. "I know it's just a polished stone, ain't worth much, but if it were the biggest ruby in Araby, I'd still give it back to you."

Ginny gratefully took the stone wrapping it again in the rag, and thanked the seamen as best she could, but her words were cut short by the ringing of the ship's bell. "We have to go," she said, remembering from her lessons what the bell meant.

"Jenny," Henry said anxiously, grabbing her arm. "WE have to go. You have to stay on shore." He reached into his pocket, and pulled out some money and gave it to her. "I didn't want to rush this but now I have no choice. This will get you to London. Find a place THERE. Do not go to Portsmouth, and especially not to Dover. Once you have a flat, go see Naval Affairs. I have to go." He kissed her strongly, which took Ginny by surprise. "We'll have to work on that," Henry added with a wry smile.

Somehow, part of the old Ginny surfaced. "I'll work on it while you're gone."

Henry looked at her smirk and smiled. "That's my angel." Then he ran to the ship.

Ginny watched him, and every other sailor, run to the ship. She was alone.

* * *

The young girl walked the streets of London with more of a sense of depression than of awe. With help from the Monsignor, she found a ride to London, to the markets. From there she found out exactly how far it was to the Office of Naval Affairs. Then she had to wait for a clerk.

It was already late in the afternoon when she finally sat down with someone. Everything went fine until she was asked for her address. Minutes later, she was out the door. She could come back after she had a place to stay.

* * *

"OY, Dearie." The woman shook the sleeping girl. Ginny stirred on the bench she was sitting on, where she had fallen asleep. "What you doin' out here at this time of night?"

Ginny rubbed her eyes. "I was looking for a flat. I was tired from walking."

"Well, you pick a right bad spot. You must have just missed the last patrol. The Armsmen will pick you up if they find you sleeping here." The woman looked at the girl. "You said you were looking for a flat? You don't have no place to live? How do you expect to pay for a place?"

"I have money," Ginny said carefully. "But I didn't know where to look."

At the woman's prompting, Ginny got up and they walked together. "My name's Mary."

Ginny paused. "Uh, Jenny. Jenny Planck."

"You don't sound too sure."

"I was married only a couple of days ago." It took little prodding for her to tell her story, but Ginny did remember to tell that she was hiding on the ship as a boy.

The woman laughed. "You do have a fine mess to deal with. But I'm already done with work, so I'm going to help you. I have a friend, we're in the same profession. She said there's a vacant room where she is."

Ginny smiled at her good fortune. It might be the middle of the night but in the morning she would have somewhere to stay. "Can I afford it?"

"Dearie, if ye can't it's because your husband came home. And even then, you just might."

"Thank you, Mary. I do appreciate it."

"The truth is, Jenny, I'd have left you on your own if I had any sense, but then you might have ended up as competition."

"Competition?"

Mary stopped to look at the young girl. "You must be as innocent as they come. Jenny, it is after midnight. I'm a woman out walking all by herself, except that you're here. Don't you know what that means?" She received a blank stare, and rolled her eyes. "I'm a whore, dearie. Do you know what a whore is?"

Ginny nodded with sudden fear. "Then why are you helping me?"

Mary smiled. "Any number of reasons, really. I don't want you ending up like me. I don't want the competition. I thought you might be a new girl." She pointed at the newspaper that Ginny had bought. "You know your letters. I thought you might have been a runaway." She leaned to whisper, "I was taking you to the Armsmen."

Ginny had to give an amused smile because of the way Mary had said that last line.

"It's this way, Jenny. Once you told me about Henry and the baby, I had a thought. You need help and I can help, and maybe you can return the favour."

"How?" Ginny asked carefully.

Mary pointed to the newspaper a second time. "I have a boy. He's five. The church says they'll teach him, but . . . they'll all know his mother makes her living on her back" She smiled. "Could you teach him his letters?"

Ginny thought about the strange request and nodded.

A few minutes later, Mary snorted. "The very luck. There's Sarah."

* * *

Ginny looked out of her window at the crowded London street. It was a noisy neighborhood but she was assured it was safe because 'there's always someone around'. It was a small room and not that lucky a find. It was in the front, where all the noise was. But it was a place to stay and it was cheap.

Mary told Sarah all about "Jenny," and Sarah woke up the concierge as early as she could. And now she had a place to stay.

Ginny sat down on the bed and thought to herself. A week ago, she was still twelve. She had a family, she went to school, she had friends. Now she was alone in a strange city in a strange world with a stranger for a husband and a baby on the way, and her first two friends in London worked at the world's oldest profession. Ginny was grateful for all the noise. It meant that no one could hear her. She was still crying when she went to sleep.


	35. Overture

Chapter Thirty Five: Overture

Ron was sitting in his favorite spot. The couch in front of the fireplace. He tried to scowl but he felt tired and was thinking more about an after dinner nap. He had decided to close his eyes when all hell broke lose in the common room.

The portrait opened and Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall entered. But they were followed by a half dozen people. Professor Quirrell was there as was Father Maurice, but the only other person Ron recognized was Captain Sheffield. He knew Captain Sheffield very well because his daughter was the reason Ron was barred from ever entering their world again. She was not supposed to know about his world, and Ron was talking about Quidditch because she seemed interested.

As a side note, She and Harry became close friends over the Christmas holiday. It was a matter of convenience for both of them because it kept people from playing matchmaker, and they were both at the right age for such things. Harry assured Ron that their friendship would end as soon as either one of them found someone they actually liked.

That tangent thought disappeared as Dumbeldore yelled at Sheffield to wait. "There is a warding spell on the staircase. Only girls may climb it." Ron remembered hearing about Colin when he tried to talk to Hermione, and smiled, but the situation was becoming increasingly odd. Why would six men from that other world want to go into the girls' dorms?

"Ah Weasley," Sheffield said as he spied the boy approaching. "Do you know where your sister sleeps?"

"No, Sir. The steps. But why would you want to know that?"

Sheffield gave Ron an angry look. "But for circumstances, I would assume you were lying. I will give you the benefit of the doubt."

Ron jumped to the correct conclusion. "Something happened to Ginny. What happened?"

"I've nullified the spell," Dumbledore said, "but I suggest we let Professor McGonagall precede us."

Captain Sheffield nodded curtly, but he was clearly agitated. Ron noticed the others were in the same mood. He also noticed that the other three men that came with Sheffield were armed.

At McGonagall's call Captain Sheffield went up the stairwell with Professor Quirrell and one of the armed men. The other two remained at the bottom of the stairwell, with swords drawn. Their tactic was useless in a school filled with young wizards and witches, but their strategy was effective. No one even considered going near them.

"Father Maurice," Ron asked, "What happened to Ginny?"

"It is not for me to say."

Ron stared in surprise. Father Maurice was frightened about something. Before he could ask another question, the sound of men talking came from the stairwell. Ron heard something about the only good thing to happen. Captain Sheffield led the way down the stairs followed by Dumbledore who was holding a wand in his hand. Ginny's wand!

"Professor?" Ron asked, but the headmaster gave him a sad smile and kept walking.

"Ronald," Professor McGonagall said as she walked up to him. "Could you find your brothers and meet me in my office?"

Ron looked at her sad eyes and nodded.

* * *

Harry was sitting in his chair when his name was called. He looked up to see the mail clerk holding out a lumpy envelope. He took the envelope and the clerk went on his way. He had the same bored look on his face that Harry had.

"Captain Smollett," Harry said as he entered the office.

"Is that for me?" Smollett said distractedly as he held out his hand and took the envelope.

"Actually, it was for me, Sir."

Smollett looked at the address. It was simple enough. Lieutenant Lord Harry Somerset. He looked up at Harry's questioning face. They both knew what was in the package.

"Sir, I must beg an explanation. Why was this sent to me? And by whom?"

Captain Smollett took a deep breath. "You are relieved of your duties for the rest of the day, Lieutenant."

"Sir?"

"Lieutenant, I need for you to be absent while I talk to certain people."

"But the envelope?"

Smollett replied forcefully. "At this time, I can tell you nothing. Do you understand?"

"I do, Sir." Harry saluted, and left the office. He grabbed his umbrella and left the building. (Meteorological Sorcerers forecasted a light shower around three P.M.) As he had the afternoon free, Harry decided to walk home. A long walk would ease his confusion.

He stepped out of the building when he heard someone shout, "Potter." Harry looked up to see a Sergeant-at-Arms, with a handful of Armsmen following, walk past him to the Armsman standing at the entrance.

"Armsman Potter, you will attend." They saluted each other and another Armsman took the place of the first Armsman.

Harry stared at the first Armsman. It was Bill.

"Sergeant," Harry called, "With your permission, could I talk to this man?"

The Sergeant took note of the Armsman. "Armsman Potter, you are relieved. Report to the Barracks for dismissal."

"Yes, Sergeant." The Armsman turned to Harry and saluted. "My Lord Lieutenant."

Harry tried to smile as he returned the salute. "I did not know you were here, Armsman. I was surprised to see you."

"I usually stand in the front, Sir, to impress the tourists." They both grinned and Harry walked with him back to the barracks, making small talk. It was not too far out of the way.

"The Sergeant called you Potter," Harry asked, when he had the chance. "My uncle told me that you did not know your last name."

"I didn't, Sir," Bill answered, "but I needed one."

"I am curious, um, Armsman. Why Potter?"

"It's from the Bible, Sir. The potter's field. It's the place where they lay to rest the people they don't know. I thought the name fit me. They didn't know me and gave me a place."

Harry smiled at the thought. He looked up. "Forgive me, Armsman Potter, but my road lies this way. Good luck to you, and to Michael."

Bill grinned. "He hates you, Sir."

"He hates me?"

"Because of you, he now has to go to school. He can't run down to the river whenever he feels like. He even has to dress properly. And he can't beg or do any of those things he did."

"Tell him I apologize," Harry offered.

"I did better, Sir. I told him if he learned his letters he could write to you and demand his apology."

The two laughed as they saluted each other, and Harry continued his walk.

* * *

"My Lord, welcome home." Lord Bontriomphe was waiting for Harry when he arrived. "Shall we talk in the library or the garden?"

"It is beginning to rain, My Lord."

"The library, then."

Harry followed his guardian into the library. They sat patiently as the servant brought in the pot of caffe and poured the first cups. As the servant left, he closed the door behind him. Harry picked up his cup and took a sip. He was acquiring a taste for caffe.

"Lord Henry, under the circumstances, I am permitted and required to reveal certain secrets to you."

"My Lord, I assume you know about the package that I received this morning."

Lord Bontriomphe nodded. "How well do you know Ginny Weasley?"

Harry almost swallowed his caffe down the wrong pipe. "That is an unusual question."

"Did you know that she had a fixation? About you?"

"Ron, her brother, mentioned a few times that she was taken with me. And I did help to save her life last year. To be honest, My Lord, I would not call it a fixation. She is only twelve. From what I understand, such things are normal."

"She had her birthday recently. She is thirteen. She was worried about you, because you did not write."

"At the present time, all officers at the Intelligence Office are forbidden to send any personal correspondence, to prevent even the slightest chance of . . ."

"Lord Henry, I am well aware of that, but this girl was not. And she used the means at her disposal to steal a control stone. Then she used it."

Harry was shocked. That was the stone that was in the envelope. "Ginny's here? In this world? Why doesn't she reveal herself?"

"An excellent question." Lord Bontriomphe refilled his cup, and poured for Harry as well. "Until this morning, we did not even know if she had come to this world. She has been missing for most of two weeks."

"But if she sent me the stone she must be in London. We can look for her."

"And where would we look? There are only six people in this world who know what she looks like. Three are in the Mediterranean, two are in Cambridge, and you are the sixth. Nor can you tell anyone whom you are looking for because then they will ask why."

"And I may not tell them why," Harry concluded. "The Weasleys will be devastated."

"They already are. Your Ministry informed her parents of what she did and ordered them to . . . Never mind that. Let us say that they were informed in a most impolite manner. I have been told that Professor Quirrell will pass this new information to Headmaster Dumbledore. I am confident that he will inform them in a more tactful manner."

"A small blessing, Lord Bontriomphe."

"And it is good news for you. You are to visit Cambridge. Your Owl, Hedwig, has served her purpose and His Majesty wishes to return her to her own world. He, and many of us, do not like the idea of using foreign technology, even if it is only a trained owl. We feel we must fight this battle with our own tools."

"I understand," Harry admitted. And he did. It was a desperate situation. But there was a difference between technical knowledge and technical use. They did it once by using Hedwig. If they dared try it again, it could become addictive.

"About Cambridge, My Lord. Why do I need to go there? Is this related to Ginny Weasley?"

"That is quite correct. Now that she has returned the stone, a major fear had been lifted and your orders do not need to be held up any longer." He noted the look on Harry's face. "You were to receive your orders eight days ago. It was only a minor delay as far as timing."

"My Lord, you said a major fear. Has she brought her wand with her?"

Lord Bontriomphe shook his head. "It seems that she was smart enough to leave her wand behind. She did steal your invisibility cloak, however . . ." He held his hand up for Harry to be silent, but there was no need. He had heard the noise as well. Slowly both stood up and began carefully looking around, listening for the slightest noise. There was a sound and Lord Bontriomphe was on the spot. He pushed aside a display table, sending the vase that was on it into Harry's quick hands. As Harry sat the vase down, Lord Bontriomphe tore open the heating grate and reached in, pulling out a boy just big enough to fit inside.

As the two glared at him, the Marquis of London flashed a bright smile. "Do you really have an invisibility cloak, Harry?"

* * *

Lord Bontriomphe took the time to take Harry to Cambridge by coach. Both of them were in a very good mood. Harry's dear little brother Roger, also known as Lord London, could not by rights be punished for anything he did. However Lord Bontriomphe, as his legal guardian, is obligated to see to the young boy's education.

At this moment, dear Roger was in the stables learning about horsemanship in all its details. He was assigned to study the effects of diet on horses and was given a shovel and a wheelbarrow for that purpose. The stablemaster was educating Roger on where to place his findings once they had been collected from all the stalls

"I assume, Lord Bontriomphe, that nothing will be done about Ginny Weasley."

"Nothing can be done, Lord Henry. We are too divided in our needs."

Harry understood all to well. While he was not privy to any private information, he knew more than the average person, simply by having easy access to all the public information. The only thing that confused him was with all of the action in the Channel why was he being sent to Cambridge. His only fear was that they were going to put him in a safe place, again.

* * *

"Welcome to Cambridge, Lord Henry, Lord Bontriomphe." Caroline Sheffield was waiting for them when the coach pulled up to the entrance of the Royal Thaumaturgical Institute.

"I am well met, My Lady," Harry said, as he took her arm, then whispered, "Why are you here?"

Caroline grinned as she put her hand on his arm and walked him inside. "We are supposed to be close, and I need your help."

"Your father?"

"He assures every likely young man that our friendship in not as close as it seems. And one of the more annoying is a journeyman sorcerer."

"You should do what I do," Harry offered. "I tell them they move almost as gracefully as you do, or that they speak with almost as fine a voice."

"And how many times have you done this."

"Once," Harry smirked, "but it did work. I have been too busy to do much socializing."

"This way," Caroline pointed, and the three of them went to a room off the main hall. The door opened when they approached and Harry was surprised by whom he saw. Professor Dumbledore was there next to Master Sean O'Lochlainn. Both had been talking to Ernie. Harry mentally corrected himself. To Lord MontClaire. Lord Darcy was also there. Last and definitely not least was his Great Uncle, the Duke of Cambridge.

The Duke cleared his throat. "Before we proceed with anything, nephew, there is something you must know. When an officer receives his sword, it is a milestone in his career. It is a milestone usually celebrated with family and friends. Your brother, Lord Somerset, received his sword, um, on the rush you might say. We never had a chance to celebrate that event."

The Duke reached behind him and picked up two fluted glasses of sparkling wine from the table and handed them to Harry, who then gave one to Caroline. He handed another glass to Lord Bontriomphe then raised his own in salute. "Lords and Gentlemen, My Lady, I give you Lieutenant Lord Robert de Somerset."

"Lord Somerset," everyone called out, and they drank the toast.

"Harry," Albus Dumbledore said, "They have asked me to accept a great honor. It is my pleasure to present this to you. I believe you are familiar with it." He reached beneath his robes and produced a sword, one that Harry recognized. The sword of Godric Gryffindor. Harry took the weapon gingerly and with no small surprise. He looked up when the Duke called another toast. Everyone was holding a refilled glass.

"Lords and Gentlemen, My Lady, I give you Lieutenant Lord Henry de Somerset."

"Lord Henry," everyone called out.

Harry watched as everyone drank the toast. He glanced at Caroline who was bursting with pride for him. Everyone else had the same look. And he smiled back, grinning like a fool. It seemed too much. It seemed something he did not deserve.

"Shall I help you?" Caroline asked, and laughed when Harry didn't seem to understand. "As a full Lieutenant, you are supposed to wear your sword. Even I know that."

"I can manage," Harry replied, and with difficulty, because of his nervousness, managed that small feat. Properly attired for his rank, he then proceeded to be congratulated by everyone present.

* * *

His Majesty sat heavily as he listened to the briefing. The military situation was still the same, which was the best news to be had.

Captain Grissom's maneuvers at Gibralter, which would soon be common knowledge, had been a stroke of genius, made more so by the circumstances. The Caliph had successfully launched his Mediterranean fleet and moved it into the Atlantic the day before Grissom's fleet reached the Straights. The Byzantine Fleet which had to delay to avoid tipping their hand had followed, met His Majesty's new Western Mediterranean Fleet and was severely beaten. It had to withdraw with the loss of three of its dreadnaughts, and was forced to regroup.

The Turkic Fleet decided not to wait once their position was revealed and swept north to destroy His Majesty's fleet at Dover, with the intention of landing an invasion force. To their surprise, the fleet was not there, but the army was. There was nothing left that could be destroyed without coming into range of the army artillery. And with the army in control, no forces could be landed. A quick inspection showed Calais to be similarly fortified. The Field Marshall was delighted to give this information.

The Caliph's ships did the only thing they could do. They blockaded the Channel and sent three of the frigates to relay the need for reinforcement. Once their Atlantic Fleet joined them, or the Byzantine fleet, they would be able to force the issue. His Majesty knew about the frigates but did not know that one would manage to return to inform the Turkic Admiral about the blockade at Gibralter.

The Foreign Officer had reported that the Baltic Fleet, which had been withdrawn at the request of His Scandinavian Majesty, was already near. His Scandinavian Majesty had declared neutrality in this war and the cancellation of the mutual defense pact of the Baltic was a backhanded effort at support. Olaf VI would do at Jutland what Admiral Grissom was trying to do at Gibralter, leaving His Royal Majesty's ships free to pursue other matters.

"The docks have been completely destroyed," the Lord High Admiral intoned, "but we are stockpiling the materials to rebuild them as soon as we are able. The losses will be inconsequential in the long run. Your Majesty?"

"A question? What would happen if the fleet at Dover withdrew and attempted to return to the Mediterranean?"

The Lord High Admiral smiled. "If they had withdrawn at once, it would have been a disaster for us. They could have swept Admiral Grissom's forces aside with ease. But if they withdraw now, we have the means to hold them. Our latest report has the Baltic fleet in the Irish Sea reinforcing itself with whatever ships have already gathered at Dublin. If the Turkic fleet does not withdraw South quickly, it will have no choice but to head north. It will be in a very embarrassing position."

A courier entered and saluted His Majesty. He then handed a report to Field Marshall Markham and stepped back out of the way. "Damn them."

"Field Marshall?" His Majesty demanded.

"My apologizes, Your Majesty. It is a report from Dover. The enemy is withdrawing in good order."

His Majesty rose from his seat. "My Lords, you have your duties to perform." He left the room to hear a great sigh from behind him. The immediate crisis had passed. The Empire had its own serious losses but it gave as good as it took. The Lions and the Lilies would continue to hold sway.

* * *

Hermione Granger boarded the Hogwarts Express which would take her home for the summer. She joined Ron and Susan for what would be a joyless trip. They made small talk but said nothing of any real importance until Hermione let out a sigh.

"They're swallowing us, one by one," she said softly.

"Who are they?" Susan asked. "The Empire?"

"Don't you see? First it was Harry, then Ernie MacMillan. And Remus Lupin."

"And Colin Creevey," Ron noted. No one mentioned one other name.

"His parents are frantic," Hermione said. "My Mum and Dad went to talk to them. I have to go see them when I get back." She patted her pocket which held a letter from Colin. "Dumbledore specifically asked me to deliver it."

"Are you going there, the Empire?" Susan asked. "You said they asked you."

"Not yet," Hermione said, thinking of Robert. He was thirteen years old and fighting in a war. At times that world seemed too strange. "Ron, How are your Mum and Dad?"

Ron shuddered as Hermione broached the unspoken subject. "I haven't talked to them yet, but Mum's letter was weird. Fred and George will be there so I won't have to deal with it alone. I think she blames me."

"It wasn't your fault."

"It doesn't matter. Mum needs someone to blame."

Susan rubbed Ron's arm. "It isn't just Ron. Fred and George say that she's blaming them as well. I think she blames everyone."

"I'm sure Ginny is fine," Hermione said without feeling.

"Then where is she?" Ron demanded.

* * *

Ginny sat in her room with the basin in her hand. Everyone outside was cheering the news. Another great victory at sea. She thought she heard them shouting about Trafalgar, but that battle was from another world. Maybe they were saying Gibralter. She stopped thinking as she felt the morning sickness rise.

* * *

Colin Creevey walked along the dock and headed toward the hospital. The construction of Port Gibralter was almost continuous, and seemed to increase now that the Sea lanes were open again. He reached the hospital and climbed the stairs to the second floor. He turned right and walked into the ward, and up to Robert's bed. Robert was sitting up, looking completely bored.

"Are you still lacking?" Colin asked with a grin.

"It was only a scratch," Robert insisted, "but I was hit in the head. They want to make sure there is no permanent damage."

"There's nothing to damage," Colin joked and laughed when Robert sneered. "How bad is your scratch?"

Robert's sneer became a grin. "Colin, you will love this." He lifted the hair off his forehead to reveal a lightning-bolt shaped scar.

"Robert, it's on the wrong side."

"And it turns the wrong way," Robert pointed out. "I know, because I have looked at Harry enough times." Robert paused. "Colin, what am I missing?"

"Nothing," Colin said happily. "After we blocked their fleet, they sailed south. I think they went to get reinforcements. They'll come back, but we'll be ready by then. The Baltic Fleet appeared this morning. Well, part of it." He reached into his pocket. "Mail came through."

Robert took the letters. One was from Roger, with the official seal of the Marquis of London. Another letter had the seal of the Duke of Cambridge. But the third letter he opened first. It was a month old, but it was from Hermione.

A/N: I was corrected on Ginny's name. Someone told me that it is actually Virginia. I will inform JK Rowling that the name she listed on her website was incorrect. Oh Boy, is she going to be embarrassed when she finds out that she made a mistake. (By the way, is the web address for those of you who don't know.)


	36. Duty

A/N: TimI asked about the value of blockading the channel. In the long term, there is none. In the short term, there is major disruption. London is closed as a port, meaning that all shipping must be rerouted. On the Island, a strain is put on resources. Ports are crowded in the west with insufficient manpower. New supply lines must be set up, not only to London but also to and from those areas that normally ship and receive from the London docks or any of the channel ports. France feels the worst of it because all their sea lanes are closed (except for the north).

Had Turkic reinforcements arrived in a timely fashion, the disruption would have been convenient for them.

Chapter Thirty Six: Duty

Sarah laughed at Ginny's discomfort. "I know I shouldn't, but your face is priceless. Yes, he's a customer, but this really is a social call. You need friends, Dearie. That means you have to meet people. And Tristram Potts is as nice as they get around here." As they approached the flat, Sarah added. "He's retired from the Navy. That's why I dragged you along."

Sarah knocked, then opened the unlocked door. "Commander?"

An old voice called out. "Goody Smith? This is a surprise. Do I hear someone with you?"

Sarah pulled Ginny to the window where the old man sat facing the morning sun. Ginny looked at the old man and noticed his most distinguishing feature. He was blind.

"Commander, this is Goodwoman Jenny Planck. She's my new neighbor. Her husband is a Lieutenant."

"Acting Lieutenant," Ginny said, then added quickly, "Commander."

"You are young?" Commander Potts said in surprise. "You must be newly married."

"And she's carrying already," Sarah added cheerfully.

The Commander clapped his hands. "That is wonderful," he said with surprising sincerity. "You must be very happy." Ginny cringed and somehow the old man seemed to know. "I said something wrong."

Sarah interrupted. "It wasn't planned, Tristram. She's still getting used to it."

The old man turned. Ginny felt he was looking directly at her. "Goodwoman Planck, there is good and bad in everything. If you must dwell on your fate, dwell on the good parts. Otherwise, you will never be happy."

Ginny nodded at what Commander Potts said. Then she blushed when she realized he couldn't see her. "I'll try, Sir. But this is all new to me."

Tristram Potts nodded his satisfaction at her answer. "Now you have to explain yourself. Where did you meet your husband?"

Ginny paused as she had a thought. The Commander said to dwell on the happy parts. "On board the HRMS Adventurer, Sir. We were under attack when . . ." She paused again as the Commander's face lit up in understanding and delight. By the time she was finished, they were fast friends.

As they left to return to their own house, Sarah gave Ginny a hug. "It was good to hear you laugh. Jenny, could I give you some marital advice?"

Ginny gave Sarah a bemused look. "You are in a position to know these things."

Sarah smirked, thinking of numerous replies she could make. "All joking aside, dearie, always remember what Tristram told you. We make our own happiness." She smirked again. "Now, is there anything else you want to know?"

* * *

Harry looked at his orders. He was to attend the Naval Engineering Yards at the Firth of Forth. With all of the action in the south, he was going north. He had been ranked a Lieutenant for only one day and did not like it. At least when he was in London he had a vague idea of what was happening. The Duke of Cambridge looked across the breakfast table, amused. 

"It was not what you expected, Lord Henry."

"It was not, Your Grace. I thought to be doing something but I will be heading further away."

"Such is war," His Grace noted. "Even when we get what we want, it is not what we want. You sound like my son."

"Lord James?"

A slim smile formed on the old man's face. "He loved the sea, I will have you know. He could have sailed all the oceans every day for the rest of his life. Then he received his own command, the one thing he wanted most, and spent the rest of his days sailing in the Baltic. It was not what he wanted."

Harry nodded. Lord James Cavanaugh became an icon because he accepted his fate. "Your Grace, would Lord James approve of how he is remembered?"

"A question I have asked myself many times. As with all such questions, the answer is yes and no. He would have approved of those who took note of what he did, and valued the good and forgave the bad. But he would have hated to be remembered as many remember him these days. He is now more of a myth. You have heard them talk. 'The man who stopped the Polish fleet.' They make it sound as though he did it all by himself.

"The truth, Lord Henry, is that he did not stop the Polish fleet. All he did was delay them those few hours until the Jutland Gap could be reinforced. That is what stopped them. My son was not a hero in that sense, and if you look at his actions you can see the mistakes he made, mistakes that cost hundreds of people their lives."

"All the past is seen with clear vision," Harry quoted.

"But the future is in eternal fog." His Grace smiled. "Do you know what his biggest mistake was, Henry?"

Harry looked up at the Duke. Until this moment, the Duke had always spoken formally to him. "No, Uncle?"

"My son did not know when to stop. He needed less time than he thought. He kept fighting because he did not know how much time was needed. The truth of the matter is that after he had assaulted the first ship of the line, he could have withdrawn."

Harry nodded at the phrase 'ship of the line'. In '39, Dreadnaughts were still a recent addition to the fleets of the world. That is what permitted the Polish to become so powerful as to attempt to break out. Once the first Greatship was built, Naval tactics changed as well, but that was the Polish fleet's mistake. When they sailed they still formed a line. When the Bristol attacked that first ship in the early dawn, the line was disrupted. The Poles then wasted time trying to reform. THEY wasted the needed time.

"But Lord James did not know that, Uncle."

"And that, Henry, was his first mistake. He overestimated his enemy. He continued his attacks, and delayed them further, but His Royal Majesty's Fleet had already been brought together. The fleet was already on its way to intercept the Poles. The truth is that my son gave his life to prevent something that would not have happened. We were already prepared. He did not know that. That was his second mistake. Had he kept on course he would have made his rendevous with the fleet in only four hours, five at the most."

The Duke took a deep breath. "Do you know why he is a hero, Henry? He did his duty to the best of his ability. He knew our fleet was forming but he did not know how much time was needed. He knew that the Poles would never expect one ship to attack, and he did. He did because every minute he delayed them was one more minute we had. He gave his life to make sure that what could be would not become what could have been. In the end, my son did change something. He did not know it. He was already dead at that point. The delay did one significant thing. It altered the sight of the battle. It moved the sight further from us, but closer to that of our Scandinavian allies. As a result, we attacked with a combined fleet. We crushed the Polish Navy in one day."

"I understand, Your Grace. He is a hero because he did his duty."

"As is every man, My Lord Lieutenant. The rare exception is that my son is recognized for what he did."

* * *

Harry dismounted from the Duke's coach as he reached the train station to find Ernie MacMillan waiting for him. 

"Harry, I have a favor to ask you."

"Anything, Ernie."

"A fair number of students are enlisting because of the war."

"And you would like to be involved."

"I cannot, Harry. You know that. I am an active Lord. I am forbidden."

"And your favor?"

"My brother."

"Ernie, how old is he? Ten? Tell him to wait a few years."

"He is Eleven." Ernie was upset. "He was supposed to be coming to Cambridge, to Saint Cathal's. To apply for admission."

Harry guessed the rest of the story. As Ernie's younger brother, and immediate heir, he was a Lord out of courtesy. But that courtesy ended when Ernie married and his wife had their first child. "He has the war fever?"

Ernie nodded. "And he knows you are in the Navy."

"Is he here? I do not have much time. I will talk him out of it if I can."

"It is worse than that. He forged Father's name and . . ."

"I know what comes after 'and'."

Ernie moved close to Harry. "They know about you, Harry. They'll keep you safe. If you could take him under your wing, then he will be safe, too."

"Lord MontClaire," Harry said a little too loudly, when he saw several officers, Captains and Commanders and one Commodore, approaching. "I am pleased to hear about your brother. Would you object if I asked if he could serve with me?" It was a simple plan. If he were discussing something that was related to the Navy, Harry would not be bothered. Otherwise they would find something for a Thirteen-Year-Old to do, even if he was a Lieutenant.

Ernie understood what Harry was doing and responded in kind. "He would appreciate that, My Lord Lieutenant, but I would demand that he receive no favoritism."

Harry smiled, but noted that the officers were stopping. That wasn't part of his plan. "The only favoritism he will receive is if he cannot fulfill his duties. He will be told by a friend of the family." Harry then 'noticed' the officers and saluted. Then he recognized one of them. Captain Carlisle of the Perseus, except that he was now a Commodore. "Sirs."

"As you were, Lieutenant," Carlisle said, then mused. "Let me guess. My Lord has a younger brother and wants him coddled."

"Sir, he thinks he will be safer with me," Harry said honestly.

"He would be safer at home and in bed, Lieutenant, and you know it."

"Yes, Sir."

"And you are, My Lord."

"Lord MontClaire, Commodore."

"Did I guess correctly?"

"Yes, Sir," Ernie said with embarrassment.

"Sir," Harry interrupted. "Lord MontClaire's brother forged his authorization."

"As did half the boys who have enlisted this past month. That changes nothing for the immediate future. Lord MontClaire, why do you not simply refute the authorization?"

Ernie was at a loss, but Harry explained easily. "Lord MontClaire is the First Baron of MontClaire. He was given the reward for, among other things, saving my life and that of my brother, as well as several others. I was only recently recognized at that time."

The Commodore laughed. "The Barony, and his father, are in New England if I am correct."

"Sir," one of the Captains interrupted.

"Proceed without me. We will confer on the train."

As the other officers left, Commodore Carlisle turned back to Ernie. "And where is your brother now?"

"He is to report to the enlistment office at noon, Sir. I brought him early because it is near the station. Friends told me I could meet Harry, um, Lord Henry here."

"And I repeat my question?"

"In the shops, Sir," Ernie said as he nodded in their general direction.

"Lord MontClaire. It is in my hands. Until your father can settle the matter."

"Thank you, Sir."

"And, My Lord, you should remember. No place is safe. It may only seem safe. Lieutenant, you will attend me."

"Sir?" Harry asked as he saluted. "I have not received my orders."

"We will pick them up on our way back from the enlistment office." The Commodore smirked. "I know where you are stationed, Mister Somerset. I had the pleasure of choosing my officers."

As Harry followed the Commodore, he asked, "You requested me, Sir?"

"Yes. I requested you. As an officer." He looked pointedly at Harry's sword. "Prove to me that you deserve it."

Harry nodded gratefully.

"Now point that boy out to me when you see him."

"There, Sir," Harry said shortly as they passed a Chocolatier. He indicated a boy a head shorter than Ernie but with the same stocky build.

The Commodore entered the shop and looked around with disinterest. The boy noticed him and saluted with a big grin. Carlisle returned the grin, and the salute. "You look the eager lad," Carlisle said. "Have you thought of enlisting?"

"I report at noon, sir," the boy said happily. He was still saluting.

"I could use a bright boy like you on my staff. Someone to train from scratch. Ah, but my train leaves at Eleven-thirty."

The boy's smile grew wider for an instant, and then he frowned. "I'm sorry, I mean I am sorry, Sir." The boy finally put his hand down.

"We could," Carlisle said suggestively, "take you down to the office and have them push through your paperwork. If you would like?"

The smile was back. "I would, Sir."

Carlisle's face became stern. "I want you to understand, son. This is no picnic. You will have to work hard."

The boy became nervous, but the smile held. "I know, Sir."

The boy noticed Harry then, and recognized him, but the Commodore was prepared. "And your name is?"

"Lord Edward MacMillan, Sir," the boy said suspiciously.

"MacMillan? Lieutenant, You mentioned a Lord MacMillan earlier in our interview?"

"Baron MacMillan of MontClaire, Commodore. He went to school with my brother before Lord Somerset enlisted. They were best mates."

"Your brother?" Lord Edward asked.

"My twin brother," Harry pointed out, then acted surprised after a hint from Carlisle. "You must be Lord MontClaire's brother. It is a pleasure to meet you. We will be serving together."

The smile was back. Lord Edward would be all the more eager because he thought he had earned the position. And he would feel less bitter when they had to send him home. Carlisle put his arm on the boy's shoulder to lead him out of the store. "A change of plans, Lieutenant. I will meet you on the train, after all." He nodded toward the clerk who saw his potential sale leaving and whispered, "go buy something."

Harry dutifully made a purchase, more than Lord Edward would ever have made, and the clerk was happy.

Commodore Carlisle was also happy. He had an errand boy who was more than eager. More importantly, he had an officer who would understand that the potential he showed the previous summer more than offset that stunt he pulled when he sounded the bells.

* * *

Lady Caroline Sheffield was only a Lady because her father was a knight and she was unofficially engaged to a Lord. Otherwise, she would only be Caroline. Despite that, her father had found another suitable young man, a Lieutenant in the Army. Her father did not like Harry, he did not like the fact that Harry was in the Navy, and he especially did not like the fact that Harry agreed to this stupid charade. Sir Mortimer did not hate Harry either, but he knew Harry's origins and felt them circumspect. 

That changed nothing. Lieutenant I-Am-Important Army-Man had payed a call, and she had to respond.

"You are a beautiful young lady," Army-Man said.

"Harry always tells me that words could never describe my beauty. It was nice of you to prove him wrong."

"Uh, well," Army-Man said, "I, um . . . I am sure 'Harry?' is correct. I can only try."

"Oh, do you know Lord Henry Somerset? But I suppose you would. He is also a Lieutenant, but in the Navy. There is not much difference, is there?"

Lieutenant Army-Man was confused by the turn of conversation. He felt he had been tricked into making a social blunder. "We are, um, both officers in that respect. I have never had the honour of meeting him personally. Although we have all heard the stories of Lord Harry."

Caroline was worried. This man was making it past her verbal obstacles and still pressing his suit. He was now wary of her tactics and determined to make an impression.

"Excuse me, Lady Caroline," the butler said. "This came for you," He gave her a box with an envelope attached.

Caroline opened the envelope and smiled. "It is from Harry. Oh dear, his orders came and he had to leave without warning. And this is lovely. 'I am sending this to you because I can not take you with me'." She opened the box, genuinely surprised, and offered her guest a piece of chocolate. Army-Man demurred, then remembered his own schedule and politely left.

Caroline smiled, grateful for Harry's wonderful timing. She would have to ask him about that last line however. "I am sending this to you because I can not take IT with me." If he could not take it with him, then why did he buy the box of chocolates in the first place?

* * *

Lord Edward MacMillan was extremely excited. The key word in that sentence is "was". His excitement ended somewhere between leaving Cambridge and arriving at the Naval Yards. Except for a brief respite while eating, Edward had done little but stand behind the Commodore while he and everyone else sat down in the lounge car and talked. Occasionally he would play the waiter and fetch caffe or tea for the various officers, but mostly he stood and listened to things he did not understand. He did have a feeling of pride however. The Commodore, when they were at the enlistment office, insisted that Edward be put on the register as an Ensign. 

"Mister MacMillan," Carlisle said as they stepped off the train. "Find which coach is mine and have the driver meet me at the inn."

"Yes, Sir," Edward said in a tired voice, and ran to the line of waiting coaches. As he did, Carlisle took out his watch and noted the time.

"Gentlemen," he said to the waiting officers, "There is little use in rushing so we may as well settle in. We shall meet in my office tomorrow after breakfast. That will give all of us time to find out where it is. You are dismissed."

The officers scattered to find their postings at the yard, and the Commodore was left alone for a brief moment. Then Lord Edward came running back and saluted. "Yes, Ensign?"

"Sir, the first coachman I asked said that you could use any coach."

Carlisle smiled. "Are you awake enough, now, to find your berth?"

"Berth?"

"Where you will sleep."

"Yes, Sir," Edward said happily. "I would be grateful for that."

"Then follow me, lad."

"Sir," Edward asked with confusion. "The coaches are the other way."

"I do not need a coach. I only thought you would like some exercise." At Edward's frown, Carlisle added, "and to see how fast you can run."

"I'm very fast, Sir."

"You are," Carlisle agreed. "Because that is what you will be doing."

Edward was finally shown his bed. It was a thin thing that he barely fit into, set into a nook in the wall across from the door to the Commodore's quarters. He was literally sleeping in the hallway. That was when he began to have his first doubts about how much fun it would be to join the navy.

* * *

Harry arose the next morning feeling stiff. He was used to sleeping on a ship, and sleeping in a bed. He was not used to sleeping on the floor. Someone failed to furnish the needed rooms properly, and Harry, being the junior officer had last choice. His room had not been furnished at all. But when you are tired enough, you will sleep anywhere. 

He rose from the floor, straightened his uniform and stepped outside and down the stairs to the main doors. It was still early, and he listened as a ship in the docks rang six bells. He walked over to the officers station and went inside. The steward on duty saw him and held up a cup. By the time Harry walked over to him, the cup was filled with hot caffe. He sat down at a table near the window and gazed out. There was still the better part of an hour before everyone would rise.

"Sir, would you care for breakfast? I could prepare something."

"I will wait," Harry told the man. "I do not like to eat alone." Harry settled back in his chair. This could be his last chance to relax for some time.

* * *

Someone kicked his bed. Edward looked up as the porter walked by. "You woke me up." 

"You are welcome," the porter said. "If you like, I will wake you tomorrow if I have the chance."

From outside a bell rang eight times, and the Commodore shouted, "MacMillan."

Edward jumped from his bed in surprise and knocked on the door.

"Open the door, boy. This is not a social call."

Edward opened the door to the Commodore's suite and walked in. The Commodore was in full uniform and waiting for him.

"You are fortunate you slept in your clothes. That means that you are ready, if not presentable."

"Um, yes Sir," Ernie said, then noticed the Commodore moving his hand for some reason. Then he realized the reason, and raised his hand in salute. Carlisle smiled approvingly.

"Always remember, Mister MacMillan, to salute all officers."

"Yes, Sir," Edward said and saluted again.

"And you do not need to salute at every sentence. Only at the beginning and the end."

"Yes Sir," Edward said. The Commodore was making it very clear how little the boy knew.

"I have a task for you, Mister MacMillan. A task I will give you every morning. I will give you the name of an officer and you will find him and tell him that I would like him to join me for breakfast. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir." Edward's voice showed a wary fear. The Navy life was clearly not what he had expected.

"Good, Son. And today I will make it easy for you. It is an officer you already know. Lieutenant Somerset. Give him my request and bring me his reply, and then you are free until three bells."

Edward nodded and left the room. He may have been ignorant but he was not stupid. He ran after the porter to find out where the other officers were quartered. With good fortune, he found the right room quickly enough and knocked on the door. He had knocked four times when a porter, a different man, came by with a trunk. He opened the door and placed the trunk just inside what was obviously an empty room.

* * *

"Not even dust," Harry said, to general laughter. "Commodore, that is the reason you saw me coming here so early." 

Carlisle laughed with the rest of the officers then looked at his watch. "My new ensign has not found you yet, Somerset. Do you suppose that is good or bad?"

"Yes, Sir," Harry replied after a pause.

"A diplomatic answer," Captain Harte said, and they laughed again.

"There he is," someone shouted, and every officer present looked out the window at the Commodore's Ensign. The boy was still running, although not as fast as the last time he had been spotted. He asked a passing seaman a question then turned to where he pointed. With a defeated look, he began to walk toward the officers station.

Edward walked into the dining room and up to the Commodore, and saluted.

"I am sorry, Sir."

"Have you delivered my message?"

"No, Sir."

The Commodore deliberately turned away and continued to eat his omelet. Edward was confused. Captain Harte tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to Harry. Edward walked up to Harry and said, in an embarrassed voice. "Lieutenant Somerset, the Commodore would . . ."

"Are you addressing me," Harry asked directly, "or are you relaying a message?" He saw Edward's stunned expression. After all, Harry was supposed to be his friend. But Harry continued in the same tone. "If it is the message then first give me the compliments of whomever sent it."

Edward nodded. "Commodore Carlisle sends his compliments, Lieutenant Somerset . . ."

"You started off right the first time, lad," Captain Harte interrupted. "Say his name. Say the sender's compliment. Say the message."

Edward nodded again. "Lieutenant Somerset, the Commodore's compliments. He requests you to join him for breakfast." Edward felt like a complete fool.

Harry grinned at him. "Please give the Commodore my compliments and my regrets because I have already eaten."

Edward turned around to face the Commodore. "Sir?" The Commodore looked up. "Lieutenant Somerset's complements. He sends his thanks but regrets to inform you that he has already eaten."

"Time?" Carlisle asked.

"Ninety-three minutes," a lieutenant said.

"Ensign, if you ever take longer than that, you will have to find yourself another career. Perhaps the Army."

Edward looked down. "Yes, Sir."

"Now take something to eat and report to supplies to be fitted for a uniform. Report back to me when you are finished with them."

Edward smiled with relief, and again when a steward signaled for him to follow to a table in the kitchen.

"Somerset," Carlisle said after the boy disappeared. "Wait a few minutes, then explain what we did. We will meet again at the Marine barracks at change of watch. Meet me there."

"Yes, Sir."Harry saluted. When he finished his caffe, he walked back to the kitchen to talk to Edward.

* * *

"I'm stupid," Edward insisted. "I don't know anything. I don't even know why he made me an Ensign." 

"You should not use contractions."

"I don't care."

Harry couldn't help but laugh. "That, Lord Edward, is why he made you an Ensign. Because you do not know. That is what an Ensign is."

Edward looked shocked. "Then every time I told someone my rank I was telling them . . ."

"That you did not know what you were doing."

"They were all laughing at me."

"Yes. We were. But did anyone lie to you? Did anyone deliberately mislead you?"

"No," Edward was forced to admit. "But they knew that I didn't know anything."

"And now you know."

Harry patted him on the shoulder. "And tomorrow you will know a little more. And then, one day, you will be just another boy in the service, doing what he is supposed to do."

Edward still grumbled. "I thought it would be fun. I ran around all morning, my bed is in the hallway . . ."

"At least you have a bed," Harry said, and Edward couldn't help himself. He started to laugh. When he stopped, he found Harry looking at him seriously. "Edward, Carlisle told you yesterday. This is serious. There will be a great deal of hard work. But, somehow it can be fun, if this is what you really want."

"Harry, what I really want is to go home."

Harry understood. "Edward, you can never go home again."

Edward gave Harry a curious look. "You know? Don't you?"

"That you ran away? It was obvious."

"You won't tell? Please?"

Harry hesitated, then made a decision. "It is this way, Ensign MacMillan. The Commodore knows all about you. He also knows that Lord MontClaire has already sent a letter to your father." Edward buried his head in his hands. "You should know that the Commodore will honour your father's wishes, but is willing to argue the matter if you prove yourself. He discussed this matter with me this morning while you were looking for me."

"But Dad will never agree." There was a pleading sound in his voice.

"I know," Harry said sadly. "And I know why."

"Tell me," Edward begged.

"It will take at least a month for your father's letter to reach us. We can talk when we have more time." He put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "And you can hope. The Commodore can be very persuasive."

"I'll try."

"And Edward. Where is the Marine Barracks?"

"When you go out, turn left. It's all the way down, almost to the docks." Edward paused. "Did I pass the test?"

Harry shrugged. "I forgot to ask where it was. With all the running around you did, I guessed that you would know."

Ensign Lord Edward MacMillan grinned, and finished his breakfast in a better mood.

* * *

Ginny stood up when she heard someone at the door. The door opened before she could reach it, and a stranger walked in. Except it wasn't a stranger. It was Henry. He looked around the flat in a disproving fashion, and then gave Ginny a questioning look. 

"I thought you would be happy to see me."

"I didn't know you were coming. I didn't even recognize you at first."

Henry gave a rue smile. "I think I expected too much from you." He walked over and took her hand. "How are you feeling? You look pale."

"I'm fine. I'm tired." Ginny looked up at the boy/man who was her husband and put her arms around him. More than anything else she needed to be held, she needed to know she was wanted by someone.

Henry hugged her gently, not sure of what he should do. What he had expected was completely different from what he had found, and a harsh reality had hit him. Circumstance had paired him with a child, a mere girl. He had not even thought to ask her age. And now he knew his error. Jenny knew nothing about keeping a home. This was probably the first time she had ever lived by herself. And he was stuck with her.

Immediately he rebuked himself. He had the means to be rid of her if he wanted, but held back. He thought on his life, all that he had known: The orphanage which held his earliest memories; the day he found out about parents; the day the sisters sent him to the ship. There he had a family of sorts. And Jenny probably had the same experiences. He wanted her but could not explain why. Then Jenny said it for him.

"Henry, you are all that I have. I don't want to lose you. I can't afford to lose you."

"Jenny, you are all that I have." Then Henry thought of something that would sound wonderful. "Together, we could build a life."

Jenny looked at him and smiled. Her arms held him in a real hug.


	37. Breathing Spell

A/N: StarWest45 pointed out that Ginevra is the Italian form of Guinevere. (It pays to read the reviews.) In the world of the Empire, the Roman (Italian) and German States are united in a loose confederation known as the Holy Roman Empire. The Plantagenets have held the title of Holy Roman Emperor since 1280 when Henry III was elected to that position (although he did not become King until 1283). In 1420, after the First Baltic War, when Harold I reigned, the Imperial title was declared hereditary in the Plantagenet line. Richard the Great was the first Plantagenet to inherit the title of King and Emperor.

Chapter Thirty Seven: Breathing Spell

Lieutenant Henry Planck lay in bed wondering what he had stumbled into. His visions of marriage had crumbled around him in minutes. The wonderful young lady he had married was little more than a scared child. He remembered how he almost panicked when she admitted she was thirteen, her birthday had been the day before they were married. When they talked last night, however, it was about nothing. Jenny would not talk about her past, and he found himself refusing to talk about his. But they knew they shared one thing. Fate had thrown them together and neither of them had anyone else.

Henry felt Jenny shift her weight as she slept next to him, her head snuggled under his arm. There was a secret about her, something she was afraid to talk about, something that tied her to him. But he had a secret, too. He had been alone all of his life. Now there was someone else in it, and he wanted to keep her in his life. She was, he thought, someone to look forward to seeing. He smiled to himself as he remembered there was someone else. He wanted to keep them in his life.

That was when he understood himself. He was home. It was a cramped one room flat. It was always noisy, even at night. The bed made his hammock seem more comfortable. But it was home. He had never had one before unless it was a ship.

He smiled at the girl next to him. He would make this marriage work. Jenny could keep all of the secrets in the world from him, as long as she was there with a smile on her face. He would do everything he could to make her happy. Jenny stirred and opened her eyes, and Henry leaned over to kiss her.

"Angel, I love you."

"Henry, could you hand me that basin."

Henry was on his feet instantly when he saw Jenny being sick. He put on his trousers and ran out of the room to the concierge, and began banging on the door. An angry, sleepy woman in her fifties answered the door. "What is it?"

"My wife. She's ill. Where is the nearest healer?"

"And you are the husband? It's only the morning sickness."

"Morning sickness? It's not serious then?"

The angry woman laughed at him. "You don't know what morning sickness is?" She closed the door on him.

Henry walked back to the room, but Jenny was gone. The basin was gone as well and he realized where she went. He sat on the bed and waited until she returned, her face washed and the basin cleaned, wearing the simple dress she had worn the day before.

"Jenny, dear. I was told you did not need a healer."

His wife looked embarrassed and amused at the same time.

"I've been thinking. If it's a boy, I'm going to name him Henry. After his father."

Henry smiled. "If it's a boy?"

Jenny walked up to him and took his hand. She placed his hand on her stomach and asked him, "What should we call her if it's a girl?"

Henry swallowed hard. He had always dreamed of having a family, but this was never the way he imagined it. Then he remembered going to sea. The ship was never what he had imagined. It ended up being hard work but he ended up loving it. It seemed that marriage and life were the same way. "I will have to think about it." He looked at her. "I'm sorry I left you."

"You had to." Ginny told him. "But I will admit that I was afraid. Afraid you would run away."

"I did run away. But I had to. I'm not Scottish." He smiled at Jenny and explained the jest but she was grinning at him. Then she began to sing:

_The Bonny Scottish sailor boy_

_He came home from the sea- o_

_Sea-o, See-o, Riddly-i-a-o, Sea-o_

_His own poor wife to see-o._

Henry laughed and joined his wife.

_Oh wife, oh wife oh darling wife_

_I am home from afar-o_

_Far-o, Star-o, Riddly-i-a-o, Far-o_

_To you, my wife, my star-o_

_And have you come my darling boy_

_Your own poor wife to see-o_

_See-o, Sea-o, Riddly-i-a-o, See-o_

_That you left for the sea-o_.

_I'm poor 'cause no money you have_

_So your poor wife can live-o_

_Live-o, Give-o, Riddly-i-a-o, Live-o_

_Come see what I can give-o._

_He ducked the pot and then the pan_

_turned his back and then he ran-o_

_Ran-o Man-o, Riddly-i-a-o, Ran-o_

_Back to the sea he ran-o._

* * *

"It is this way," Robert explained to Colin. They were walking along the dock in the early morning, the sun newly risen. "When the war began, we were short of officers and men. Any midshipman with any experience was ranked simply to fill the places needed. Now that we are approaching a complete war footing, most of those promoted are being reviewed to determine if they should keep their ranks or be set back. There is no disgrace attached, however, if you are set back. It only means that you need more experience."

Colin laughed. "Are you trying to convince me, or yourself? Well, I know something that you don't. The reviews are over. Yesterday was the last day."

"But I have not been called," Robert said, as understanding filled him.

Colin stood up and saluted. "The Admiral's compliments, Lieutenant. He requests the presence of all officers at breakfast. I am to ask you for a reply."

"How much time do I have, Mister Creevey?"

"Fifteen minutes," Colin said. "You can make it if you run."

As Robert took off, Colin yelled after him, "Is that a Yes?"

* * *

For over a month, Harry had been training. He was First Lieutenant on the HRMS Nautilus. Except for Captain Harte, he was also the only officer. The ship only had twenty souls and two guns. But the Nautilus could do something that could only be done by two other ships, also in the docks. It could submerge.

The Nautilus, as well as its sister ships, the Atlantis and the Neptune, was one step past the experimental stage. It was about to take its maiden voyage, and Harry was eager to be off. He had been told where the ship was going. Gibralter. Robert was there.

The mission was simple. Port Gibralter, by a stretch of the imagination, was operational. Hence, it needed a Port Admiral. The Nautilus would deliver him.

Harry laughed as he opened the door to his cabin. It was six feet long, thirty inches wide, and five feet high. His hammock would hang over his sea chest which would hold his belongings. He could put up the hammock and lower a panel in one wall which would act as a desk. His chest was designed to also act as a chair. Any remaining floor space was used for storage, and the entire wall of his cabin could be removed if need be. On a ship this small, there was no room to waste.

He put his sword away. It would be too cumbersome to wear. And he paused to think. "This War is all because of me."

* * *

Lieutenant Lord Henry de Somerset, nee Harry Potter, was right in only the limited sense. It was not him but the knowledge of the control stone that was the cause, or at least the excuse. For centuries, the Anglo-French Empire had been growing. Its growth had never been fast, and could not always be measured. After the failed Polish breakout in 1939 Ano Domine, the Empire had the distinction of being the preeminent sea-power. Trade became the staple of the Empire, and it entered a Golden Age. It also became dominant.

The Scandinavian Empire was always an ally, although not always close. They were also the strongest rival the Empire had. That was because every capable man had to spend a certain amount of time in the military. That meant that every adult male in Scandinavia was also a trained soldier.

The Byzantine Empire, commonly known as Roumeleia, was the oldest empire in the world, except possibly for far Cathay. It was also past its prime. As the Empire grew, and the Polish Empire rose, the remnant of the Roman Empire declined. It was still a recognized power, but never what it had been in the past.

The fifth major player was the Caliph of Baghdad. He was the figure that unified the Turkic Sultanates that bordered Roumeleia in the west, then flowed south around the Holy Land and through Egypt across the northern coast of Africa, ending in Grenada.

The Caliph could unite all of these by calling a holy war, a jihad, but that only happened if the council of advisors told him to. History tells of one Caliph who did so against the advice of his council and died that very night. The new Caliph revoked the order the next day, claiming that God had made known His will.

In this world of Empires, a holy war was not that unusual. The Anglo-French Empire had fought several of them in its history. It had even declared some of them. That did not change things. War was still war.

The combined efforts of the Byzantines and the Turkics had one specific purpose, to weaken the Anglo-French Empire. The Byzantine goal was simple. Its Emperor wanted to secure prestige, and a possible influence in the Roman States. One of Kyril's official titles was Holy Roman Emperor. The Sultans and the Caliph wanted to secure the Iberian Peninsula and establish a foothold in New France. Both governments, through their spies, knew about the experiments with the Traveler Stone and the development of the control stone. But they knew that the Empire was not using the stones to their full potential. The Emperor in Constantinople even knew why, but that was not important. What was important was that it gave them the excuse to form an alliance. What was also important was that, despite the initial failure of their surprise attacks, the alliance was working. The Anglo-French Empire was barely holding its own, and knew it.

It is because of these circumstances that the old adage rings true. Politics makes strange bedfellows.

* * *

"My Lord Ambassador," The Lord Seneschal stated formally to the small entourage. "His Gracious Majesty will speak to you on this matter. If you will follow me."

Count Gavloskoya, Ambassador to the Royal Court of the House of Plantagenet by request of his Slavonic Majesty, Casimir IX, followed the Lord Seneschal into the Royal Court. With him were his secretary and Admiral Ashton of His Royal Majesty's (Eastern) Mediterranean Fleet.

His Majesty, John IV, sat on his raised throne. With him, on either side were the Lord High Admiral and the Field Marshall. The Ambassador, his secretary and the Admiral all genuflected until they were told to rise.

"We welcome you, Ambassador, as the representative of Our brother, Casimir, We hope that He is well."

"Quite well, Your Majesty. And your Gracious Brother also wishes you the best of health and a long reign." He paused. "May I speak plainly, Your Majesty?"

"That is why you are here, Ambassador. We wish to clarify certain points of this treaty you propose."

"It is simple, Your Majesty. Your Admiral, faced with the loss of his fleet, surrendered his ships to the Polish Empire rather than to an active enemy. For all these months we have honoured our agreement with him and kept his ships intact and her crew whole. We openly offer to return them to you, and we ask for a favor."

"And this favor is?" King John knew the price, but he wanted to hear the man say it.

"A small thing. We are massing what warships we have. We should have sufficient power together to break out of the Sea of Marmara, and from the Black Sea into the Mediterranean. In exchange, we ask your help in securing a seaport in the Balkans, which are rightfully ours, so that we can resupply at need. Our army will help supply a diversion by liberating the Balkans from the north. If we are fortunate, we will have a port from which we can continue to aid our, um, allies."

John IV smiled. One of his enemies would be distracted from the war if he let another enemy has access to the Mediterranean. Circumstances now made this acceptable.

"Ambassador, We have never objected to His Slavonic Majesty's right to rule over his own lands. Neither do We object to the offer of mutual assistance. We will even state this fact in writing."

The Ambassador took the scroll from his secretary and handed it to the Lord Seneschal who in turn handed it to the King. The Lord Chancellor entered with the Royal Seal and presented it to His Majesty, who then affixed His seal to the document, next to that of Casimir. A treaty of mutual defense now existed between two countries which had been active enemies for over two hundred years.

* * *

"Somerset," Captain Harte called. "Look at this."

Harry stepped over to the periscope. After four days at sea, or under sea, he was used to the cramp quarters. He was even used to the smell of twenty bodies in a confined area.

He slid his lens cover over the eye piece and looked through the scope. The lens cover was an ingenious thought. Weak eyes were common enough. The lens permitted him to see as though he were still wearing his glasses.

Harry admitted his awe at what he saw. It was a Dreadnaught patrolling the waters east of the Straights of Gibralter. "She has African markings, Sir."

"She does, Mister Somerset. From the Sultanate of Morocco if I am correct. Part of the Caliph's Atlantic fleet."

Admiral Quincey tapped Harry's shoulder, and Harry backed from the scope, removing his lens. The Admiral then looked at the enemy ship. "Captain, this ship is armed?"

"It is Admiral."

"Would you like to test her guns?"

"I would, Sir, but we are supposed to keep our presence a secret."

The Admiral smiled. "I will wager that the only secret you are keeping is that we are here. We have bested the Greeks. I would like to bloody the Africans as well, but the choice is yours. I will not order you, but you do have my permission."

The Captain hesitated. "Sir, I am reluctant because my guns have not been tested. If they do not function properly . . ."

Admiral Quincey smiled as he would to a small child. "I do understand, Captain. It was only a suggestion."

"With all due respect, Admiral." The Captain let his anger show. "Your safe passage is my top priority. If I test my guns and the results are catastrophic, then you are lost and no one knows the reason. Once you have been brought to land, I will be more than happy to test my guns on any ship. But not while you are on board."

Admiral Quincey politely nodded. "Your point is made, Captain. I will not trouble you further." As the Captain stepped to the controls to confer with the pilot, the Admiral mused to Harry, just above a whisper. "My boy, this should be a lesson for you. Never hide behind your orders. If you are afraid to do something, you should admit it, and learn to face it." The Admiral shook his head. "It was such an easy kill."

Harry was grateful when the Admiral went back to his Cabin, which was the unused storage area. He walked up to the Captain. "Sir, the Admiral has retired."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." The Captain paused. "Harry, are you upset?"

"No, Sir. You were right about not attacking the ship while the Admiral was on board."

"I was referring to his words."

"Again, Sir, I would have to say no. The Admiral is eager to win this war, and has confidence in this ship. He was venting his regret."

Captain Harte grinned. "Harry, have you ever thought of the diplomatic corps?"

"It has been suggested," Harry said with a grin of his own. "Where do we stand, Sir?"

"We are almost to the Straights." The Captain sighed. "We will hopefully deliver the Admiral in time to have dinner on shore." He looked aft. "Assuming we do not have to find a dreadnaught to sink."

"I would not mind either one," Harry admitted, "although I would prefer the meal."

Harry walked from the control room forward to the gun room where six men were sitting around, bored. "We should dock before evening, Mister Swinton."

"Hooray," The gunner's mate said without excitement. "I heard the Admiral ask us to use our guns. I would'na minded the work."

"Priorities," Harry murmured. "We can not make everyone happy."

"Then wake us up when we get there," Swinton said with a grin.

"Only if the Captain remembers to wake me," Harry promised.

* * *

"A curious situation," The Admiral said with a smile. "An enemy ship in our path. And this close to the Straights. Because this is now a battle situation, I will assume command."

"Sir," Captain Harte said earnestly, "I would recommend waiting. We are in no danger, and the frigate will surely leave its position before sunset to report."

"I disagree, Captain, and I have exercised my prerogative. I am now in command. Order your men to load the guns. We will enter Port Gibralter with an example of what a submersible ship can do."

The Captain scowled. "Lieutenant, order the guns to be made ready."

Harry opened the hatch to the forward compartment. "Mister Swinton, make ready the guns."

"Sir," Swinton said with a degree of surprise. He had thought his earlier remark a jest. "Are you aware that these guns have not been tested in sea conditions? We were to test them with powder after . . ."

"The Admiral has decided that this is to be the test." Harry remained by the hatchway to relay orders. When the gunner's mate informed him, he informed the Captain and the Admiral that the guns were ready.

"Pilot," the Captain ordered. "Turn her three degrees starboard." He waited until the turn was complete, and said without conviction, "Give the order to fire."

Harry looked into the forward compartment. "Mister Swinton, fire your guns."

"On the mark of three," Swinton called. "One, Secure the hatch." Harry closed the hatch and locked it. Mentally, he counted two and three. Then the forward compartment exploded.

* * *

"You will live." A strangely accented voice said, but Harry could not open his eyes. He seemed to be blindfolded. The way his body hurt, he decided they were bandaged. Arabic words were shouted and the stretcher he was on was lifted and carried. By the change of the rocking motion he knew he was being taken from ship to land, but he could only guess which land. He was obviously not among friends.

Harry felt himself being carried through the hot sun as the familiar smells of the docks mixed with strange smells he could not identify. He was brought inside and his stretcher placed on the dirt floor. Then he was left alone. Eventually, he fell asleep from exhaustion.

* * *

Lieutenant Robert Somerset looked in surprise when the Atlantis surfaced at the dock. He was even more surprised when the First Lieutenant opened the hatch and called him Harry. After a brief conversation, he called for the runner. It was Colin.

"Runner, find the Admiral. If he is not in his office, have him meet us there immediately. RUN."

Colin ran as fast as he could, and Robert turned back to the Lieutenant, but the man was already calling to the Captain. As the Captain emerged, Robert called to the docking crew to see to the needs of the ship's crew. Then he repeated the order. The men were still staring at the strange ship. He led the Captain to the Admiral's office, then returned to his duties as best he could. It seemed that Harry was supposed to be coming to Gibralter, but he was late by over a week.

Colin received the news stoically. It was as though Robert had told him that it was raining. But Robert knew his friend. The midshipman would express his feelings later, after the shock wore off.

* * *

"By Your Majesty's request," the Lord High Admiral said as he saluted. "Naval Status reports through the month of August."

"We as pleased that we have a secure link to Port Gibralter."

"Yes, Your Majesty, but the blockade of Marseilles is still in place. We are not yet able to take action. We must still concentrate on the African ships in the Atlantic. We fear another major battle in that theatre."

His Majesty, John IV, sighed. "And our shipping is at their mercy. Have you any good news?"

"Port Adelaide in the Duchy of Quoba is functioning fully. Our ships in that theatre can now be resupplied and repaired without crossing the Atlantic. The Commodore requests a Port Admiral to assume command."

"Inform the Commodore that he is to assume acting rank until further orders." The papers were leafed through. "The Nautilus. What is the most current report?"

"It was definitely an explosion. Eight bodies have been recovered, including the Captain. Our latest reports tell us that, besides Admiral Quincey, the Sultanate of Morocco has three others in custody. Their Navy actually claimed to have sunk the gunboat while it was sneaking past them. It should be noted that they assume it was a gunboat, with a faulty gun. Our secret is safe if that . . ."

His Majesty interrupted. "We will assume the worst, regardless. You know what We are asking you."

Admiral Smith nodded. "We think one of them might be the Lieutenant on board. We are trying to negotiate parole."

The Lord High Admiral noted the lack of reaction. His Majesty had great concerns for his nephew, considering his connection to the other world. But the boy was a popular figure in his own right in this world. His presence at Naval Intelligence proved useful, as did his not so quiet transfer to the Engineers Docks at the Firth of Forth. "If Lord Harry can do it, why not you?" the enlistment posters read. It helped spur the initial volunteer efforts of both the Army and the Navy.

"Your Majesty, if I may say something."

"My Lord Admiral."

"This matter has great political value. I believe that is why Morocco does not reveal the identities of the crewmen. They are waiting for us to acknowledge that he is missing. They know we must make such a report."

John IV looked at the Admiral. "What do you propose?"

"Send orders to Lieutenant Somerset to return to London. When he arrives, we will announce that his brother, Lieutenant Lord Robert Somerset is missing and presumed dead. We let the Caliph and the Sultans worry about what to do."

John IV frowned. "But Lord Henry Somerset has a scar on his forehead, in a distinctive shape." His Majesty took the folder that he was handed and read the medical reports for Somerset, Lord Robert, Lieutenant. Then, he laughed.

* * *

Robert had already said his goodbyes as he approached the sloop, Whisper. It was said to be the fastest ship of its class. He had his orders to return to London.

News traveled slowly and his worst fears were only recently confirmed. The submersible ship that Harry was in had been destroyed. Experts who managed to salvage pieces of the wreck determined that one of the shells had exploded. That it was Harry's ship was confirmed when his sea chest washed up on shore. Native fishermen, eager for profit, sold it to the Navy for much more than they would have received otherwise. They liked their new neighbors because of things like that.

Robert would return Harry's sword to Dumbledore. He had no idea of what else he should do.

"Lieutenant Somerset," a vaguely familiar voice said behind him as Robert reached the gangwalk.

"Lieutenant Farley?" Robert asked as he turned around.

"As though you could forget me, Harry."

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant. You have mistaken me for my brother."

"Do not jest with me, Harry. I know you." He reached over and pushed Robert's hair aside. "Your distinctive scar tells me which one you are." Farley winked. "Oh, I brought your orders for you."

"Thank you, Lieutenant Farley."

"Ben," Farley said as Robert broke the seal on his orders. "You always call me Ben."

Robert looked up at Farley, then back to the envelope. Both the envelope and the letter inside were addressed to Harry. But there was a small note inside the letter. He unfolded the paper and recoiled. He recognized the handwriting.

"Robert, You must do this. For Us. For the Empire. For Harry."

Robert took the note and crushed it into a ball. He had to destroy it, least chance cause it to be found. Shrugging his shoulders, he put it in his mouth and began chewing. The ink tasted terrible.

"I have some water," Farley offered.

Robert gratefully took the water and drank. As he handed back the flask he asked, "Ben, if it is convenient, could we go somewhere and talk over old times?"

"My thoughts exactly, Harry. My quarters are quite private." As they walked onto the deck, Farley added, "I could not help but notice that you are wearing your brother's sword."

Robert noticed that others were listening, simply because the ship was always crowded. "I thought to wear it until I could return it to my uncle."

Farley deliberately stopped him. It was obvious he wanted witnesses. "Then you have not heard the most recent news? Lieutenant Lord Robert Somerset is alive and a prisoner. The Navy is arranging parole for him as we speak."

Robert started to shout Harry's name but caught himself in what became a strangled cheer. "He Is Alive?" Robert asked in a voice that begged God not to wake him from this dream.

Farley smiled broadly. "Yes."

* * *

The Gypsy looked at the sleeping boy. She did not know how well the negotiations in London were proceeding but she understood leverage. This boy would be the perfect tool.

"We are safe for the moment, My Lady," a coarse man whispered. Harry would not have understood the man if he had heard him, because the man whispered in Polish.

"Keep your blade ready. I will wake the boy." The Gypsy waited as the man, still holding the bloody knife, went to watch the door. Then she began to speak in Anglo-French. "Harry? Wake up, little one."

Harry stirred to the insistent prodding of someone's hand. He opened his eyes to see who his visitor was. Except for rough voices through the door and necessary food through the gap under the door, no one had bothered to come inside his cell after the first few days. Now he opened his eyes and saw a vision of beauty.

"Are you an angel?" He asked hoarsely.

"You have won my heart, darling boy, but no. Can you walk?"

"Yes." Harry was confused. "Who are you?"

"Explanations later."

Then Harry noticed the blur of a man at the open door. "We're escaping?"

"You will follow me. And do as I tell you."

"My glasses," Harry asked quickly.

"I will buy you a new pair when we get to Krakow."

"Krakow? Who are you?"

The Gypsy knew she needed Harry's cooperation. She told him the truth. "I am the one who tried to kill your brother, Harry Potter. I did that because it was my job. I failed in that task because your brother would not cooperate. Now my job is to return you to your Empire. It is for you to decide if I fail in this task."

Harry nodded. "Tell me what to do."

"Follow."

Harry walked out of the cell behind the two people, everything around him a soft blur. He made out the bodies of three people, the guards. The woman was standing in front of another cell, speaking Arabic. Then Harry heard a key turn and a door open. He was then told to follow quickly. As they rushed up the stairs, there was the clear sound of other doors opening.

Harry smiled. The other prisoners were being released. It would add confusion and aid their escape, provided they were far enough away before someone heard the noise.

They came out of a doorway and two other men were there, standing by a cart. They quickly grabbed Harry and pushed him into the cart under some blankets. Two bodies were pulled out from those same blankets and dumped on the ground. Two more guards. Then, the Gypsy screamed.


	38. Changing the Plans

Chapter Thirty Eight: Changing The Plans

Harry lay under the heavy blankets as he listened to the voices around him. He did not understand a single word of Arabic and had no idea what was happening.

"What was that?" A guard yelled as he and several others came out of their barracks.

The Gypsy began to cry loudly and pointed at the bodies of the two guards. Meanwhile, the three men kept telling her to get in the cart, to let the men take care of it, to look away because such a sight was not for a delicate woman.

The Captain of the Guard came out and recognized the woman, despite her veil. She was the General's friend who visited frequently and made him happy. The men were her brothers. There was no argument or questioning of these facts. Especially since she would sometimes bring one of her many sisters to visit the Captain and make him happy.

The Captain ordered his men to force the four visitors into their cart and make them leave the fortress. Once they were safely no longer there, the dead guards could be discovered by himself. The gate was closed and barred behind the cart, and the Captain ordered the men to prepare their weapons. From the noise, the prisoners had not yet made their escape. There would be many empty cells in the morning.

* * *

Robert's habit was to wear his hair loosely when he was off duty. On duty, he would tie it back in a horse's tail to keep it out of his way. Harry used to comment that his hair never grew, but that seemed to change after he came to this world. Harry's hair was now as long as Roberts, hanging past his shoulders, and Harry had taken to following Robert's habits.

Robert tried to think of what Harry's habits were.

"He does not swagger," Farley said. "He looks around him more as he walks. And he is humble."

"Humble? Harry is many things but he is not humble."

Ben Farley laughed. "You are Harry. Robert asks people, 'What is it you want?' You ask people, 'How may I help you?' Do you understand the difference?"

Robert shook his head. "Harry the Humble? And I never noticed."

"That is part of being humble. You do not let everyone know. They might think you are bragging."

Both laughed at the jest, then Robert became serious. "Ben, you know Harry best at sea . . . ,"

"You are mistaken on that point. Commodore Carlisle, at Forth, spent more time with him than I have. I will teach you what I know. Then he will tell you how to act."

"Scotland in September is a wonderful idea," Robert said as he sat down. "Now, could you explain to me exactly what humility is?"

* * *

Professor Quirrell sat in the room preparing his spells. Professor Dumbledore had explained to him about the Goblet of Fire and he was eager to examine it. He waited until the students had gone to their beds then began to set his equipment up in the small room near where the Goblet was on display. He was preparing his instruments when he reached the point where he needed to charm one of his wands so that it was sympathetic to the Goblet.

The Law of Sympathy was the most misunderstood law of science, in Quirrell's opinion. He had heard Master Sorcerers make mistakes in explaining it. Most people assumed that the law of Sympathy was similar to the Law of Association, except that you were making an Association through the use of magic. The Law of Sympathy was, in fact, the making of a likeness.

He loved the way that Master Sean O'Lochlainn explained it to his DADA class.

"Think of language," Master Sean said. "You have Simile and Metaphor. Simile is the Law of Association. Something is like something else. A smile is like a ray of hope. Her eyes shined like diamonds. And my favorite, a day without sunshine is like night. An Associative Object is like another object but it is not that object. A bullet is like a gun. That is because a bullet Associates with a gun. A button is like a coat because a button has an Association with the coat. And there are others. A pipe and a hat, because the man wears the hat every time he smokes the pipe. These are all Associations, and they may be weak or strong, depending on the circumstances.

"Sympathy is like Metaphor. I once heard an irate Goodwoman curse her husband and call him a dog. That is Metaphor. The man is not like the dog. The man is the dog. That is what the Law of Sympathy is. Through the use of magic, we make one object sympathetic to another object. The one object Sympathizes with the other. We make a glass sympathetic to a rock and what happens? The glass is not like the rock. The glass is the rock. If we throw the glass down it will not break, because the rock does not break. It will weigh heavier, because the density of the rock is heavier than that of the glass.

"I know what you are thinking, but the law of Sympathy does have one drawback. It is not a natural law. Sympathy, except in rare case, such as some identical twins, does not exist in nature. Each leaf on a tree is not any other leaf on that tree, or any other tree. As a consequence, the Sympathy of one object to another will only last so long as the spell lasts."

Master Sean went on to give examples of how the Law of Sympathy could be used, but he never thought of this one. Professor Quirrell wanted to see how he could unravel the spell on the Goblet, to see if he could use reverse engineering to determine how the spell was made. But he could not do that with the actual Goblet of Fire. Therefore he would use the Law of Sympathy and make his brass wand a Goblet of Fire and then disassemble the spell.

He put his hand on the doorknob, but stopped when he heard a noise. He did not want to interrupt a student out of bed. It would be more fun to wait until after the student tried to enter his name. He was waiting for the telltale noise of the age line casting out another sneak when a voice he did not recognize said, "Done."

Quirrell waited until the footsteps faded then slowly opened the door. He looked out and saw a vague shadow disappear around a far corner.

"What happened?" Gabriel thought to himself. "What was 'DONE'?" He walked over to the Goblet, ignoring the age line. He was obviously above the required age. He stopped and turned back to look at the line. HE was obviously ABOVE the required AGE. He looked at the Goblet. He walked up to the Goblet.

Gabriel Quirrell had a horrible thought. He took it upon himself to wake the Headmaster.

"I am not asleep yet, Professor Quirrell," Albus said as he let the sorcerer into his office.

"I need to ask a question, Professor Dumbledore. What exactly is a magical contract."

Albus gave him a bemused look "It is a binding agreement. Any individual bound by the contract must fulfill the terms or face the consequences."

Quirrell smiled but did not relax. "And what are the consequences? A fine, perhaps?"

Albus almost laughed. "Gabriel, a magical contract is a serious matter not to be entered into lightly. The consequences for failing to honor such a contract are also serious. May I ask why?"

"I am not sure," Quirrell said. "But I need to make some tests. I will let you know as soon as I do."

Gabriel Quirrell raced back to his makeshift laboratory and pulled out the tools he needed from his bag. He lit the charcoal in his brazier while reciting certain spells. He put a tin plate over it and began to sprinkle sulphur powder onto it. The powder began to burn, giving off its horrible smell. He did not even notice the stench as he watched the pattern form. The burning sulphur had etched a name into the plate. Harry Potter.

* * *

The white hot flames of the Goblet of Fire turned red a third time and for the third time a charred piece of parchment wafted above the flames. Albus Dumbledore took the parchment in hand. "The Champion for Hogwarts is Cedric Diggory."

The Hufflepuff table went wild. The entire house were on their feet shouting and applauding the Quidditch Captain. Not one of them heard Dumbledore's congratulations. They continued to cheer as Cedric left the table to join the other two champions. Then their voices began to die one by one as they noticed what the others in the hall had already seen.

The Goblet flared red once again, and a fourth parchment was floating above the flames. Dumbledore reached for it and read it, letting a sense of confusion into his voice. "Harry Potter."

"But he isn't even here," a voice shouted in the silence. It was Ron Weasley.

Father Maurice Pannier, who had returned as the school counselor, stood up. In the glow of the pumpkin lamps that lit the hall, his angry face had a sinister look. "Headmaster Dumbledore, we assured you that the Lords Somerset would be made available if need be. This is not a necessity. Officially withdraw his name."

"He can't," Ludo Bagman said. "He's bound by a Magical Contract. He has to participate." He gave Father Maurice a shrug as though to say 'those are the rules'. They turned as someone gasped. The white flames had turned red a fifth time. As everyone watched a piece of parchment, noticeably larger than the others appeared. The hall was silent as Dumbledore took the parchment, unfolded it and read what was on it. Despite the seriousness of the situation, there was a mirthful twinkle in his eyes.

"By the Grace of God and of His Most Serene Majesty, John Plantagenet, Fourth of that name, the person of Lord Robert de Somerset, Scion of the House of London, Heir to the Duchy of Cambridge, and Officer with the rank of Full Lieutenant in His Royal Majesty's Navy, is hereby entered into this contest as the representative of choice for the Royal College of Sorcery, Kings College, Cambridge Town."

"Gabriel?" Father Maurice spoke with the surprise that everyone felt.

"A bit too obvious?" Quirrell asked loudly from his seat at the end of the table.

"You did this deliberately? In God's Holy Name, Why?"

Professor Quirrell spoke loudly so that everyone could hear, and he used his voice to amazing effect. With a smooth rhythm, it went from light amusement to barely suppressed anger. "To make it clear what I have done. No one doubts how Lord Robert's name came to appear. It makes you wonder which school Lord Henry represents." He made it obvious that he had entered Robert's name but not Harry's.

"Perhaps we should talk to the Champions," Dumbledore suggested.

* * *

Lord Bontriomphe glared at the nine-year-old boy who was standing in his study reading the document he had taken off the desk. "I know this is your house, My Lord Marquis, but this room is my private office. You should not be here. And you should not be here reading my papers."

"Lord Bontriomphe," Lord London asked, as though the man had never said anything. "Why is this so obtuse to Naval Intelligence? It seems obvious to me."

"What seems obvious to you?"

"About my brother. The notes in the margin say that they do not understand the significance . . ."

"I have read it," Lord Bontriomphe said as he grabbed the documents out of the boy's hands. "They do understand. This is a first draft copy for me to review. Naval Intelligence has not revealed to me as general knowledge what they have determined from these facts."

Lord London brightened. "Then they do know that Harry escaped? Did they help him?"

Lord Bontriomphe sat down in his chair and pulled Lord London in front of him. "Tell me how you determined that?"

"My Lord, the pertinent facts were the initial statement and followup statement of the Sultan of Morocco, and the miscellaneous report of the execution of the Captain at one of their prisons for failing to prevent a prisoner uprising. The first statement suggested that they had a prisoner of importance in addition to the Admiral they had seized. The second statement denied that fact. The uprising that cost the Captain his life occurred between these two events. It occurred at the prison that My Lord Henry would most likely have been held."

Lord Bontriomphe nodded. "And how did you derive your conclusions."

Lord London smiled. "A Sultan does not lie. He may mislead, prevaricate, and feign forgetfulness but in any official statement what he says is true, even though a Sultan will usually say very little. Therefore, both statements are true. My Lord Henry was a prisoner when our government were first notified, but by the time our government responded My Lord Henry was no longer a prisoner. It is known that he was not freed, nor was he paroled. It is also known that he did not die. To hide his death would be irrational. His reputation would make his death a reason for the Empire to lose morale. Nor would his death be cause to execute the Captain of the Watch. The only reasonable explanation is that the Captain was executed because he failed to prevent the escape."

Lord Bontriomphe stared. This Boy had determined in the space of an hour what a half dozen trained men had spent most of a day to conclude. "Now, My Lord, I have a special reward for you."

Lord London cringed. It was going to be one of his guardian's famous scientific experiments. His favorite boots still smelled from the time he had to clean out the stalls. "I hope it is something wonderful," he said halfheartedly.

"It is." Lord Bontriomphe was smiling. "His Majesty has agreed that your skills need to be honed. A late entry has been arranged for you at Saint Cathel's Academy. "

"But I am only nine?"

"And you are more intelligent than people twice your age. You must learn how to nurture that intelligence so that it becomes wisdom."

"When do I leave?" Lord London asked in a defeated voice.

Lord Bontriomphe smiled, remembering when he watched the late Marquis give his eldest son this same news. Lord Robert, although admitted in the normal fashion and at the usual age, had the same look on his face.

"It is not the end of the world, you know."

Lord London did not believe him.

* * *

The train slowed as it entered the station at Edinburgh, and Robert waited patiently for the trip to continue. It would only be a half hour stop. He looked up a few minutes after the train stopped as the door to the compartment opened.

"Lord Somerset," the military courier asked as he entered.

"Lord Henry Somerset," Robert corrected.

"I fear not, My Lord," the courier stated. "There has been a change of circumstance. Your brother's escape has become common knowledge." The courier smiled as he saw Robert's reaction. "It seems that I have the pleasure of informing you. And to give you your new orders."

Robert thanked the courier, grateful for the news. When the courier left, he opened his orders and groaned. He was now 'invited' to London to discuss his experiences in the Gibralter Campaign. He was temporarily attached to the enlistment office.

* * *

"There he is," someone said to Ginny, and pointed across the huge crowd. "It's Lord Somerset. He's Lord Harry's brother."

Ginny smiled at the thought of being spotted at this range. She watched as he passed by and almost laughed. They were parading him around London to convince men to enlist. But the rumors were already circulating that they were recruiting for the press gangs as well, if the need became too great.

Ginny made her purchases and went back to her flat. She was becoming adept at shopping, and at cooking. She was also happy that the morning sickness had finally ended. Now she had new problems to deal with. Her stomach was beginning to swell. It wasn't noticeable yet, except to her, and she already began to feel slightly awkward as she walked. Goody Smith told her it would only get worse.

When the church bells rang at noon, Ginny grabbed her books as well as the slate and chalk she had bought. Goody Smith had her two children ready, and she gratefully handed Ginny two shillings. The five-year-old girl and the four-year-old boy would go with her to the park. She would babysit them for a few hours and also teach them how to read and write. She did this three times a week, weather permitting, and received a shilling for each child for each day.

The Church was willing to teach them, but the other parents had their prejudices. They did not like the idea of 'those children' being with their own. Everyone knew that Goody Smith made her living at the world's oldest profession. And she was honest about it. Circumstances also made her Ginny's best friend. After all, who else would want to associate with a pregnant thirteen-year-old girl who was living alone.

Ginny learned to respect Sarah, and at times to rely on her. Sarah taught her that reality was hard. You made your happiness. In a quiet moment, Sarah confided in her. "That's why I kept my children. They are my happiness. And with your help, dearie, they'll make something of themselves, and rot all them decent folk."

Ginny had other friends as well. Goody Corman, the midwife. She was always friendly to potential customers. And there was Commander Potts. He was an elderly man who was forced to retire young when he came too close to an exploding cannon. A metal sliver pierced his skull and left him blind. His wife had died years before, and he lived alone on his pension. Sarah introduced them. The Commander was delighted to find out that 'Jenny' was a navy wife.

And then there were the children. They could never decide if she was one of them, or one of the adults. They decided that she was midway between both groups, and she could give them insights to the things they heard.

"Jenny!" a young boy called, and waved as he ran by. A pair of women smiled politely at her then began whispering as she went past. She turned into the building she lived and the concierge was there, looking for the month's rent. She grinned at Ginny, who always payed promptly, and waited for the deadbeats who lived on the third floor.

Ginny knew that grin, and walked briskly up the stairs. She opened the floor to her flat, and smiled. It was Henry, home from the sea. He looked at her and grinned back.

"We had to make a run to Gibralter and come straight back. I didn't know until we left. I could have warned you."

Ginny wrapped her arms around him. "I'm happy you're here."

"I will be leaving again in the morning," Henry warned his wife, as they ate their supper.

"Then we should go to bed early," Ginny suggested.

"I will be gone for a good while, Angel. You know that."

"You told me. An escort to New England, and then to New France."

"Write to me?"

"I will."

"I will miss you dearly," Henry said and pulled Ginny into an embrace.

"To bed," Ginny suggested. "I know you want to."

Henry knew what his wife was offering to do and tried to dissuade her. "I will not make any demands on you. I told you."

"You are my husband. I've decided that if we are to be married, it should be a complete marriage. And I'm curious about the things Goody Smith has been telling me."

"Jenny," Henry said with a laugh and a frown. "You should not take advice from that woman." He paused as he saw the humor in Ginny's eyes. "What has she been telling you?"

"That we make our own happiness. I've fallen in love with you and I want to make you happy that you married me."

Henry tried to say something but Ginny kissed him, and the words were lost.

When he left in the morning to return to his ship, Henry felt regret that he had to go. As he crossed the street he looked up and saw the young woman that was his wife throw him a kiss. It made his heart lighter, knowing she would be there for him.

The young woman watched her husband until he disappeared from sight. It could be months before he would return this time. But she knew he loved her, and she felt for the first time since she had come to this world that she had a life to look forward to. She was Goodwoman Jenny Planck, and she had a husband who cared for her. She smiled at her memories of the night before. She had done her wifely duties and she knew it made him happy. But then they lie there, talking. She revealed that she had a family (past tense) and he revealed that he never had one, until now. More then anything, that sharing of truth made being with him worthwhile.

When she went out later that day, someone called her Jenny, and she knew that was her name. A new name for a new life.

* * *

Robert was delighted when he was relived of his duties. He was tired of being paraded around London. Who else could explain to both bankers and factory workers that they needed to risk their lives for little pay. 'Anybody,' Robert thought in bitter humour, but they said he was needed. And so he thought.

Lord Bontriomphe was beaming when Robert returned to London House. He had good news. Harry was definitely alive. His escape had been confirmed and he was 'somewhere'. Robert then learned that Lord London was going to school, and would accompany him to Cambridge.

"And why am I going to Cambridge?"

"You are returning to school as well."

Robert was startled. "But it is already November?"

"Then you are already late."

"Lord Bontriomphe, what has happened?"

"You will find out when you arrive at King's College."

* * *

"Your running around has helped," Lord London told his brother as they rode in the coach, the countryside passing around them. "Lord Bontriomphe told me that there will be no need for the press gangs this year, at least not in London."

"He told you?" Robert asked.

"He knew I was listening." Lord London's face admitted the lie.

"And that is why he is ridding himself of you, dear brother."

"It is not. I am precocious. I need a challenge to my intellect."

"And a paddling to your posterior," Robert smirked.

* * *

The coach pulled up to the Royal Thaumaturgical Institute. Professor Quirrell was there to met Robert and ushered him inside the building, as the Journeyman Sorcerer carried his trunk. Lord London gave a quick goodbye, and watched as his own trunk was lowered from the coach.

"The indignities begin," he said as the coachman climbed back to his perch and drove away. Apparently no one had mentioned that he needed to make TWO stops at King's College. The Journeyman Sorcerer looked back as though to say something, but Lord London waved him away.

"I will take care of it, Journeyman. I am here to learn to fend for myself." His attitude made the Journeyman smirk, but Lord London ignored him. Picking up his heavy trunk, he carried it and disappeared around the side of the building, heading toward Saint Cathal's Academy.

* * *

It was with some confusion that Robert accompanied Professor Quirrell on a trip to the country estate of the Duke of Cambridge.

"Professor, why am I being sent back, and after the start of the term?"

Quirrell looked across his desk at the young man, who was still dressed in full uniform. "There have been complications."

"Has there been a third prophecy?"

The Professor arched an eyebrow. "You know about the second one?"

"Harry told me." Robert paused. "I have heard nothing more about him. Have you any news?"

"His Majesty's office informed me that Lord Henry has not been heard from and that it should be considered a good omen. You will return to Hogwarts, however . . ."

Robert steeled himself. In the past five months he has several adventures. In one day alone he helped repel an enemy dreadnaught, had his ship blown out from under him, and then helped seize another enemy dreadnaught. He did nothing at all for four weeks then participated in another sea battle. This one, in the Straights, forced the Caliph's Mediterranean Fleet to remain in the Atlantic. While his ship had little damage, a sister ship, the Victorious, was sunk with a major loss of her crew. Barely one hundred were saved. These events made Quirrell's 'however' seem trivial and frightening at the same time.

". . . however, as strange as it may sound, you may have to be both you and your brother at the same time."

"It is a poor jest you make, Professor."

"It is a Tri-Wizard Tournament, Lord Robert. His Majesty himself thought it best to complicate the situation least whomever has plans on your brother's life find the task too easy. I will give you the details as I know them. But if you should have any questions you may approach Albus Dumbledore or his new Defense Professor, Goodman Alastor Moody. They will help you with any problems you may have."

Robert spent the next hour listening to the details of the tournament and of what had happened. When they were finished, Professor Quirrell produced the control stone, and brought Robert over to the other world.

"Was this necessary?" Robert had to ask at one point. "If you had left my name out, I could have doubled for my brother."

Professor Quirrell nodded. "That was my idea as well, My Lord, but someone understood that whomever was behind this might notice the ruse. Despite the fact that the two of you are identical, you are still two different people. You should know that. You had to learn how to act like Lord Henry, I understand, when we thought to hide the news of his capture."

Robert frowned, but listened carefully to everything. Things were different for him now. In his home world he was considered an adult. Fourteen was the age when an apprentice in a guild would become a journeyman. Returning to Hogwarts was no longer a choice. He would return because he was ordered to. But he had one more question to ask.

"Professor, I need to know. Is my brother that important?"

"To the Empire, the answer is no. He is useful, but he is not important. His popularity among the common people was helpful in inciting enlistments, but that is a minor thing when one looks at the grand picture. But to the other world the answer is a resounding yes. Even if most of those wizards and witches do not know it. The nature and use of magic in their world has made Lord Henry the focal point of their future history. I know that you were told about the first Prophecy."

"I remember, Professor, but I must ask why we continue to go to such efforts if it is not necessary to us. I am grateful, of course, but I know that I am also not important on the larger scale."

Quirrell paused. "Albus Dumbledore has been more than helpful to us in our research of his world. Has it ever occurred to you that this was part of a bargain?"

"Your answer begs another question, Professor. Why is that world so important?"

"Because of you, Lord Robert de Somerset. When you unwittingly used the control stone for the first time, you went to that world. You told us that your last thoughts were to be as far away as possible, some place that had never heard of His Slavonic Majesty. In that world we have only found one person who also exists in our world. That person is your brother. Lord Henry is not the cause for all of this. You are. We have done everything we could for him because of you. Lord Robert, you claim that you are not important, but you are. You are the heir to the Duchy of Cambridge and as such you will become the Royal Guardian of the Traveler Stone, the greatest evil the Dark Lord has ever wrought."

Robert was stunned. "What did I do that was so important?"

"You found a safe world, and your actions paved the way for the people there to accept us. Know this, Lord Somerset, because of you we have the chance to analyze the Traveler Stone in two worlds, and that may give us the key so that we may finally destroy it."

Upon their arrival, Robert spent an hour with his uncle, while Professor Quirrell waited. When he returned to the coach, he had no need to ask any more questions.


	39. Return to Hogwarts

Chapter Thirty Nine: Return to Hogwarts

The Ministry of Magic had given specific instructions to Albus Dumbledore concerning two students. When they were to return to the school, they were to assume their original names and dress in the standard school uniform. Cornelius Fudge considered his message to be quite clear. He was very upset to find out that Charlie Potter refused to accept these instructions.

"I am an adult, in my world if not in this," he informed Professor Dumbledore angrily. The effort was ruined by the headmaster's mirthful grin. Robert began again, but the smile was too much for him.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, I have been informed of the circumstances of my being entered into this competition, and I must refuse to set aside my rank or title at this time." Robert's grin matched Dumbledore's. "Please see that all the appropriate persons are notified."

"Shall I start with the Minister himself, or with Professor Snape?"

Robert began to laugh. "You know too well my feelings, Sir. Could you tell Professor Snape while I watched?"

"Robert, you are too old for such things," Dumbledore said, and chuckled when the boy began to object.

"I apologize, Professor."

"Accepted, Lord Somerset. And does My Lord prefer private quarters, or his former bed."

"If I choose my former bed, will I still be on the Quidditch team?"

Albus gave him a sorrowful look. "Alas, dear boy, Quidditch has been cancelled because of the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

"I would prefer to choose my old bed . . ."

"Your friends would appreciate it, My Lord."

"As would I, Sir, but circumstances dictate that I choose private quarters."

Albus turned back to his desk and picked something up. "You might want this."

Robert looked at the wand and made a decision. "I will not need it, Headmaster. I am not here to attend school."

Albus affected an amused look. "Then I will keep it here, just in case."

Robert bowed politely and left for the Great Hall. It was almost noon. His plans were simple. He would rejoin his former classmates and decide what to do from there. But even simple plans go awry.

"Look, it's Prince Potty, come back to Hogwarts."

Robert looked to see Malfoy standing in the hallway before him, Crabbe and Goyle on either side. He took three quick strides and drew his sword as Malfoy reached for his wand. He stopped with his sword at Malfoy's throat.

"I am a member of the Nobility and an Officer. You will refer to me properly at all times or I will have your head. Do you understand?"

Malfoy's face went white. The look Robert gave him and the tone of his voice shown that he was serious. He eyed the sword and its owner carefully as he tried to think of what to say.

"What's the meaning of this?" a gravelly voice said from behind.

"Professor Moody," Draco said quickly. "You're a witness. He attacked me."

"So I can see," Moody said, noting that the boy with the sword never moved his eyes, or the sword, from Draco. "The question is why? My Lord, can you answer that question?"

"He insulted my rank, Sir, and by that, insulted my King. I must take offense."

"Then I'll set the punishment," Moody told him. "Put that sword away now or I'll take it away, King or no King."

Robert lowered his sword, and turned, stepping back when he saw the new Defense Professor.

"I am a sight, boy . . . and I know it. No offense taken."

"Thank you, Sir," Robert said gratefully, bowing to the man. "I will leave him in your hands." He sheathed his sword, and walked past the three Slytherins, pushing Crabbe out of his way.

"Well now," Moody said as he stared at the three boys, "What's the punishment for insulting a Lord? I don't think there is one. I'll make something up." His magical eye focused itself on Malfoy. "Considering your family, you ferret-faced lying . . ." he choked off the rest of his words and pulled out his wand, casting a spell on the boy. "And you're stupid, too," he shouted as a white ferret began to run away. "If you had learned that sorcerer's spell, you could have been laughing at me." As the ferret began to run around the far corner, Moody called out, "Accio. Let's have a little fun."

* * *

Robert walked into the Great Hall in a foul mood. After he walked away, the students who had stopped to watch his little scene began to laugh. He knew it probably wasn't true, but he felt they were laughing at him. Then twin hands stopped him.

"Robert, have you seen Ginny?" Fred asked anxiously.

"I have not forsworn my titles. I demand you address me . . ."

"Hang that," George said. "Have you seen Ginny?"

Robert became concerned. "No, but Colin asked me to give her a letter. He promised . . . What happened?"

Fred and George were both deflated. "You don't know."

Fred explained. "She stole Harry's invisibility cloak and used it to sneak into Father Maurice's office. She stole . . ."

For the first time since he had met them, Robert saw Fred and George on the verge of tears. He knew what happened. There was only one thing to steal from Father Maurice.

"I know nothing," Robert admitted. "Nothing at all."

"She's in your world," George explained. "We know that much. She returned the stone by mailing it to Harry. That's all we were told."

"We thought you would know how the search is going," Fred said. "Mum's worn out over this."

"They will find her," Robert assured them. "But we are distracted by the war. It will take time."

He was grateful when they went back to their table. Hearing about Ginny was a shock, but he knew at once that no one was looking for her. Who was there who could look? He sat down at the Hufflepuff table without even realizing it.

"Lord Somerset?" a voice asked, and Robert turned to see a familiar looking figure.

"Do I know you?"

"You know my brother, My Lord. Lord MontClaire." The boy was grinning at him.

"By God, I did not recognize you. You are Lord Edward MacMillan. How did you come to be here?"

"I'm a first year. I'm in Hufflepuff. And to hell with good breeding."

Robert laughed with Edward. "You must tell me the story when we have time. Lord MontClaire swore that your father would never let any of you return."

Edward gave a wry smile. "My father learned never to use the word 'never'."

"My Lord?"

"Edward," the first year said, "Or better yet, Eddie."

Robert nodded his amusement. "I will apologize but I must choose Lord Edward. I have not forsworn any rank, and I will not."

Eddie bowed politely. "Then I addressed you as I should, My Lord."

"What do we call you?" another first year asked.

"Address him as My Lord," Eddie MacMillan said.

The first year nodded. "What do we call you, My Lord?"

In the back of his mind, Robert could hear Davers saying, "I love the new ones."

"My Good Man, you call me My Lord. Everyone does. There will be no exceptions."

Cedric Diggory's voice was heard from behind him. "Robert, they cancelled Quidditch."

Forgetting himself, Robert turned around quickly. "Cedric, the Quidditch cup. Did we win?"

"And the House Cup."

Robert hugged Cedrice in joy. When he let go, Cedric told him, "It was because your brother had to leave. Gryffindor tried, but they didn't have a seeker."

Robert kept his grin. "Those are the fortunes of war. I will try to live with it."

"My Lord," the first year asked. "Why doesn't he have to call you My Lord?"

"He is the Quidditch Captain," Robert replied out of hand. "I am a Lieutenant. Familiarity is permitted between fellow officers."

As Robert turned back to Cedric the first year asked Eddie MacMillan, "Does Quidditch have Lieutenants?"

* * *

Harry was bored. It had been ten weeks since his escape and only two things had happened. He had learned to ride a camel, and he had learned to read and write Polish. (And it wasn't even Polish. It seems that the official court language is German as spoken in Brandenburg.) He was not a skilled speaker but he was learning quickly. He was helped by the fact that there was nothing else to do.

"There must be a faster way to travel," Harry said in disgust.

"I do not understand," the Gypsy replied in BurgDeutsche.

Harry repeated himself in Polish, and was corrected on his grammar and pronunciation.

"This is important, little one. It is not enough that you speak our language. You must speak it as though you were born to it. That is why I always correct you, and why I ignore you when you speak Anglo-French."

"Yes, My Lady."

"Good. And you are correct. There are faster and easier ways to travel than this small caravan, But you and I are being looked for. We dare not use them."

"But a ship . . ."

The Gypsy laughed. "Between the Angevins, the Turks, the Greeks and the Tunisian pirates, we would be hard pressed to reach any destination. That is why we are taking the land route. We will travel faster when we reach Palestine and cross over into the Byzantine Empire."

"I thought we were at war with them."

"You are, but we are not. Although we are discussing the matter. We may go to war, with or against them, depending on which side makes the best offer."

"Then I am a hostage?"

"No, little one. You are the honoured guest of His Slavonic Majesty. I promise you, I will see you safely to Krakow. Once there you will either be returned to your own people or remain with us as our guest until the hostilities cease. You are useful only if you are safe from your current enemies."

Harry was curious about that phrase. "As opposed to our 'former' enemies."

The Gypsy smiled. "You are learning, little one. You are learning. And now you must learn some more. We will discuss History for a while, as seen from an honest perspective and not influenced by foreign prejudices. Pay attention. You will need to know this."

Harry was tired by the end of the day, as he was by the end of every day. He understood one thing. He was not being taught Polish, he was being taught to be Polish. His 'dearest aunt' as she now insisted she call him wanted to make sure that his actions would not cause anyone to think otherwise.

The caravan paused that night at an oasis and stayed there for the entire day. It was the first of November, All Saints Day, a Holy day.

Harry paused in thought as he looked out at the desert. Somewhere to the east, perhaps two weeks away as they were traveling, lay Egypt. He would have the opportunity to see the pyramids. Then he thought of Ron. He hadn't thought of Ron in months, except when he was told about his sister. Ron was his best friend, but he had almost forgotten him. How many others had he forgotten?

"Co Martwi was, bratanek?" the gypsy asked as she came up from behind him.

"Egipt," Harry answered. He smiled. Egypt was not a standard reply when someone asked what was troubling you. They continued the conversation in BurgDeutsche.

"And why does Egypt trouble you?"

"My friend went there last year with his family." Harry hesitated. This woman was not the person to be intimate with. They had been traveling together for almost two months and she had still not told him her name. But then, she knew who he was and where he came from. "I have not thought of my friend in a long time."

"Then think on him now. You should never forget your friends. I will leave you in peace."

With no small surprise, Harry watched the Gypsy go back to her tent. For a second she sounded sincere. And for that brief moment, Harry almost liked her. But the Gypsy did not want to be liked.

Harry turned back to the desert and stared at the vast nothingness of sand and rock. He thought about his friends and of all the things he had missed. He thought about Fred and the way they talked the day they met his brother. There was a sense of regret for what might have been, but it did not trouble Harry. He had made a choice to be with his brother, and now he had two brothers, both of whom cared for him greatly. Then Harry laughed to himself. His decision had landed him somewhere in the North African desert. So much for choices.

* * *

Robert walked up the staircase to the seventh floor and approached the painting of the Fat Lady. "Balderdash," he said loudly.

"Oooh," the Fat Lady said as she opened up. "The dashing young sailor comes courting."

Robert smiled at her and walked through the entranceway into the Gryffindor common room. He smiled as he saw who he was looking for. Bowing politely, he asked. "Miss Granger, may I ask for your company today."

"No," Hermione said. "Not until you agree to help me."

"Of course I will," Robert said happily. "With what?"

"I'm organizing a group to protest the use of slave labor in this school."

Robert hid his surprise. "Yes, by all means. There is no reason to hire slaves?" His mind told him that the sentence did not come out correctly. "Hermione, there are no slaves. Slavery was abolished in your England in Eighteen Hundred and something or other."

"Not people. House Elves!"

Robert became more confused. "But house elves are not human."

"You've done it now," Ron whispered, as Hermione scowled at him.

"Robert, how can you say that?" she demanded.

"Because . . . I am a fool. I do not understand what you are talking about."

"The school uses house elves to do all of the cooking and cleaning. They're forced to do it."

"How terrible," Robert said and received another scowl for not sounding serious enough. "But what can I do about it? Formally, I am not even a student here. I am a guest."

Hermione smiled and Robert failed to catch the cue that he should begin to worry. "It's simple, Robert," Hermione said as she stood up and put her hands around his neck. "If you were to join our organization, it would mean that your world also objects to the horrible treatment of another species."

"And your organization is?"

"The Society for the Promotion of Elf Welfare."

"Should that not be Elvish Welfare?"

"Then you agree?"

"Of course I do, my love," Robert said, and chose that moment to give her a short kiss. When she responded, his heart leapt.

"I won't charge you," Hermione said with a sheepish grin. "But you will have to wear one of our badges." Hermione released him and reached behind her. She then handed him a button which said 'S.P.E.W.'.

"I can not wear this," Robert said sarcastically, then changed his tone at once. "You know, Hermione, I must wear my uniform at all times. I may not wear any unapproved adornments."

"You made that up, just now."

Robert thought to himself that if it weren't true he would have made it up in a heartbeat. He could see Professor Quirrell's face if the man spotted the badge on his jacket.

"I did not, Hermione. But I can do this. I can mention my feelings on the subject at . . . appropriate . . . moments, when I am having private conversations with, um, certain people."

"Will you?" Hermione asked hopefully.

"I promise," Robert told her.

Hermione smiled. "Give me ten minutes to get ready." She was still smiling as she ran up to her dorm.

Ron looked up at Robert. "You're going to mention your FEELINGS?"

"When it is appropriate," Robert answered, and both boys smirked.

"Excuse me," a small voice said, and Robert was forced to look down.

Ron grinned, "Robert, this is Dennis Creevey."

Robert looked to see a younger and, if possible, smaller version of Colin with the same energetic smile. But the eyes held a worried look.

"How is Colin?"

"Homesick," Robert told Dennis. "He greatly regrets his rashness now that the excitement is over. I am happy to meet you, Goodman Dennis."

"Goodman?" Dennis and Ron asked.

"I have not foresworn my titles. I am making everyone call me Lord Somerset."

"Including Malfoy," Ron laughed.

"Is Malfoy . . .?" Dennis asked.

Ron nodded. "The Amazing Bouncing Ferret. Robert, you should have stayed. It was great. Professor Moody was great. Until McGonagall stopped him."

Robert had to laugh at the way Dennis was vigorously nodding his agreement. "I should have," he admitted. "But I am forgetting something. Dennis, I have been asked to give you this."

He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a thick letter and gave it to the first year. Dennis gratefully accepted the letter and almost ran off to read it, but stopped himself. "Colin, is he coming back?"

"To visit if he has a chance," Robert assured the boy. "He is in a dangerous place at this time. It is safe enough, but it is dangerous to try and leave." Robert knelt to look the boy in the eye. "Dennis, you must know this. Your brother is one of the bravest people I know. When others, including my own brother, were frozen by surprise, Colin was already taking action. I owe him my life, and I am not the only one to make that claim. Be proud of him."

"Thanks," Dennis said, grateful for the words of reassurance. As he walked off, a couple of other first years joined him. The first year Gryffindor was already popular because of his brother.

* * *

Robert walked arm in arm with Hermione as they made their way to the lake. Robert wanted to see the Dumstrang ship at close range. He was also curious that the frigate was still there.

"Sirius Black lives there," Hermione explained. "He's grateful to be free, but he prefers his privacy. Fred and George visit him a lot."

"I had heard rumours of a joke shop?"

"According to Fred, Sirius isn't interested in working in any kind of shop, but he will consider investing in their company once they graduate."

"That is something to look forward to. Hermione, you do know that I am in my Majority. I am fourteen."

"So am I," Hermione laughed. "And I won't marry you until I graduate."

Robert smiled at her response. Before the war began, she would not consider it. Now it was an assumption. "What I ask may mean putting off the wedding for another two years. Professor Mercer is prepared to offer you enrollment in January, if you are interested."

Hermione shook her head. Suddenly she seemed, in Robert's eyes, to be much older than she was. "I can't. Not while the tournament's going on. Not while you're here. Tell him, after this year. I promise."

"Then you will come?"

Hermione lowered her head as she blushed. "I will become a lady."

* * *

"And how is my godson," Sirius asked his two guests. "And where is he?"

"Harry is, um," Robert said. "Well, we are not sure. We are fairly sure where he is not."

"But I was told that he was captured by the enemy and then he escaped."

"And as far as I know he has not been recaptured. North Africa is a difficult place to escape from. Harry's only choices are by sea, and the Sultan of Morocco controls the Atlantic, or across the desert. I do not know what has happened to him. All I know is that he is still alive."

Sirius looked at Robert. "And how can you know that?"

"Simple. He was chosen to participate in this contest. That could not have happened if he were dead. Professor Quirrell assured me of that fact."

Sirius nodded. "And what happens when you have the first task?"

Robert frowned. "I do not know."

"We'll think of something," Hermione said, rubbing his arm.

"Keep me informed," Sirius Black told them, then added sarcastically, "LORD Somerset. This commoner may be able to help."

"Goodman Black," Robert said without offense. "I am only following orders. And your help would be greatly appreciated."

Sirius noted the glint in Robert's eye, and smiled at the words 'following orders'. "You've been ordered to be rude to everyone? How are the teachers taking this?"

Robert returned Sirius's smirk. "Professor Moody and Professor Sprout were amused. I am waiting to confront Professor Snape."

* * *

On Sunday, November 22, a tired Robert de Somerset awoke at first light because of habit and not because he was well rested. He managed to get dressed and stumble on his way to the chapel. There, he gained another hour by sleeping through most of the mass. As he was the only other person in the chapel, Father Maurice noticed at once. After he finished, he put his vestments away, then approached the sleeping boy.

"My Lord," Father Maurice said loudly, to no effect. He shook his head in amusement, then whispered, "Hermione Granger is here."

"UH," Robert said as he suddenly sat up. "Oh, sorry, Father. Has mass started?"

"It ended twenty minutes ago. Why were you sleeping?"

Robert blushed at the rebuke, more because it was given in a conversational tone. "Hagrid had me meet him at midnight, to show me the dragons." He paused. "I do not think I am supposed to know about the dragons. They are for the first task"

Father Maurice's curiosity was obvious. "And why did Hagrid single you out for this honor?"

"He did not. I was sneaking behind him as he escorted Madame Maxime. I think they were on a date."

"Interesting? She will probably let the matter slip to her student. I assume you will be telling Cedric Diggory?"

"I woke him up last night," Robert said sheepishly.

"Then only the Dumstrang Champion does not know. Is that fair?"

"Um, while I was hiding, Professor Karkaroff slipped past me in the dark to get a closer look. I do not think he saw me."

Father Maurice rubbed his face with his hands. "It is nice to know that honour and dignity survive in this world. Letting everyone cheat equally."

Robert couldn't help but grin at the remark.

* * *

"My presence is not necessary, Professor. I have not taken back my wand." Robert was unwilling to admit that he did not want to be photographed or interviewed by the Daily Prophet. He had read more than enough articles about his backward world.

"I have your wand, and Harry's," Dumbledore said with humor. "You do not need to use it. Only to have it examined. It will be quite painless."

"And her?" Robert asked as he pointed to a woman with clawlike fingernails.

"She will print whatever she wants, regardless of what you say. But don't take the word of an addlebrained dingbat."

"I thought she called you an obsolete dingbat?"

"Oh?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling. "Has she written another article about me?"

Robert laughed as Dumbledore excused himself and found himself facing . . .

"Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet. And you must be Robby."

Robert took an immediate dislike to the woman. "I am Lord Somerset, Goodwoman. Address me properly or not at all."

"A nobleman?" Rita asked with a small grin. "You must be a great hero where you come from. What with the nice uniform and the pretty sword."

"I could give you a closer view of my sword if you like." Robert's voice was ice.

"You are an anxious child," Rita said in the same tone. "But you probably don't know any better." She looked up as Dumbledore approached. "Albus, how are you?"

"Busy, thank you, Rita. If you will excuse us."

Without waiting for an answer, he led the grateful boy away. Robert was thankful that the interview was as brief as it was, but he would learn later that Dumbledore was telling the truth about that abhorrent woman.

The following week, he was on the cover of the Daily Prophet. The most polite thing that was written about him was that he probably never had the chance to learn a better way of life. Draco Malfoy would read aloud how the bloodthirsty young savage had boasted of his exploits on the battlefield.

"For the love of God," Robert would mutter "I am in the Navy, not the Army."

* * *

Robert sat on his bed, worried. He knew that somehow he needed to get past the dragon today but he did not know how. That, however, was not what he was worried about. He had heard nothing about Harry. Then there was a knock at the door, and Father Maurice entered.

"You were not at breakfast, My Lord. I made it a point to bring you some food. You need your energy today."

Father Maurice sat a plate on the table by Robert's bed and handed him a fork. Robert reluctantly began to eat while Father Maurice reached under his robes. "My Lord, you may not be aware of this, but I am no longer trusted with a control stone. Not after it was stolen from me. Did you find Ginny Weasley to be an interesting person?"

Robert looked up with his mouth full. He swallowed quickly. "I do not think I understand the question."

Father Maurice waved the question away as he reached under his robes. "That is only my curiosity asking. It seems that Ginny Weasley left this behind." Robert found himself staring at Harry's invisibility cloak.


	40. The First Task

A/N: TimI has been asking some good questions about the Empire, and I've decided to take time to answer them.

He wanted to know where the military in New England and New France will come from. The answer is obvious. From the local militias (Armsmen). The difficulty is that they have to be organized to repel an invader. They will be supplemented by regiments from the standing army but that will take time. And that answers another question. This war is going to last far longer than the story it is in.

On a more personal level, Jenny Planck will be giving birth sometime in February (Chapter 45). As to Harry's reaction to the changed history, he gave a brief opinion in the middle of the last chapter (at the oasis).

For HLB, as TimI pointed out in his review of the same chapter, Bertha Jorkins was the impetus for Barty Crouch, Jr. escaping his father's clutches. Harry merely had his wand stolen. Since Harry didn't go to the Quidditch Championship, Junior stole someone else's wand. But that is another story.

Chapter Forty: The First Task

Four Champions stood in the tent. Ludo Bagman was frantic. He kept asking Robert continuously where his brother was until Albus Dumbledore gave his assurances that Harry Potter would arrive shortly. The tent flap opened, as though he was waiting for the cue, and Harry walked in wearing his school robes.

"Brother," Robert shouted and ran to him, pulling him into an embrace. "I was worried."

"I wouldn't worry too much," Harry said as Robert released him. He looked at his brother carefully, and Harry winked at him. "I'm sorry I'm late. Shall we get started?"

Each Champion reached into a bag and pulled out a scale model of a dragon. As luck would have it, Robert pulled out a Norwegian Ridgeback with the number five on it. He would be last. Harry was almost as lucky. He was number four. And so they waited. Cedric went first, with a well-meant wish of good luck from the twin brothers, and from the sounds outside he did very well. Then the Veela girl was called, and Robert couldn't help laugh at the way Harry's eyes followed her. Finally, Victor Krum was called and the two were alone.

"Harry, what happened."

"Good, you remembered to call me Harry."

"Because I do not know who you are."

"I'm just a commoner, My Lord," Harry said and gave him another wink.

Robert almost laughed when his 'brother' pulled out a flask and took a drink. "I am humbled by your actions, Sir."

"Not yet," Harry replied, "but you will be after I'm done with this task. I am going to have everyone looking at me."

"How?"

Harry's grin widened. "Accio Firebolt. I just hope this wand works properly for me."

Robert had to laugh this time. Using a broom was a brilliant idea and much more fun than what he had planned. Robert was willing to bet that the real Harry would have thought of the same thing.

"Are you ready, Robert?" Harry asked. "You can use my broom when I'm done. They would expect twins to do the same thing."

"I have my own, brother, as you well know. But I will not be using a broom."

Harry eyed him carefully. "I know Dumbledore still has your wand."

"I do not need it."

"You aren't planning on cutting your way through?" A finger pointed at the sword. "You're not allowed to hurt the dragons."

"Then I am done for," Robert quipped, and both of them started laughing.

The laughter was broken by the sound of a whistle, and Harry stepped out of the tent. Robert listened carefully to the comments, wishing he could watch. He could easily hear Ludo Bagman shouting about what a great flier Harry was. Robert resisted the temptation to look out anyway. Applause suddenly drowned out every other noise and Robert prepared himself. In one minute the whistle would sound, and it would be his turn.

* * *

Hermione watched from the stands as Harry flew on his broom. She could almost believe it was Harry. She applauded wildly as he dove for the golden egg and raced toward the judge's table. Harry received forty points, tying him with Victor Krum. She, and everyone around her applauded again.

The whistle sounded for the fifth time, and everyone looked at the Champions' tent, but no one came out.

"And now we have our last Champion," Ludo Bagman called out, "Lord Somerset." A pause. "LORD SOMERSET!" Another pause. Hermione watched the tent as did everyone else. But from the corner of her eye she noticed the dragon, a Norwegian Ridgeback, was acting strangely. She turned to watch it as Ludo Bagman said, a little too loudly, "Someone fetch that daft boy and let him know it's his turn. Unless he's got cold feet."

"Ron," Hermione asked. "What's the dragon doing?"

Ron, and Susan Bones, followed Hermione's gaze. The Dragon had walked away from its eggs to sniff at a ball of moss the size of a bludger. Susan was the first one to recognize it.

"That's Morass Moss? Dragons react to it the way cats react to catnip."

"But why didn't any of the other dragons notice it?" Ron asked.

"Because it wasn't there before," Susan said. She looked over to see Hermione smiling. "And we didn't see anyone put it there."

Hermione's grin grew wider. "And I saw the golden egg disappear just now."

Ron looked at Hermione, then Susan. "He has Harry's cloak."

All three were watching the judge's table for what they knew was about to happen. A minute later, a hand appeared out of nowhere and held up the golden egg. Then the cloak dropped to the ground and Lieutenant Lord Somerset stood there in full uniform.

Karkaroff was on his feet immediately after the surprise wore off. "That was an illegal move. He's not allowed to use an invisibility cloak."

Ludo Bagman laughed. "Come now. Harry Potter used a broom."

"But 'e called it to 'im," Madame Maxime stated.

A small argument ensued, until Dumbledore asked to speak. "There is a violation of the rules, that much is obvious, but there is no clause in the rules to disqualify him from the contest. We must judge him based upon what he has done."

Karkaroff immediately waved his wand, and a zero formed in the air above his head. Madame Maxime started to follow suit, but paused to look at Robert. "It waz a clever trick." She waved her wand and white smoke formed the number two.

Albus smiled at her. "I must be a bit more generous, my dear." The number four appeared above his head. Barty Crouch gave a scowl, muttering, "This is for getting the egg." The number one appeared above his head.

Ludo Bagman looked at his fellow judges, and then at Robert who was smirking. "Well, boy, you gave us a good laugh. The least I can do is double your score." He waved his wand and a fireworks shot out, exploding into the number seven.

Robert looked sad. "Now I will have to take off my boot if I am to count all of my points. Oh, backward me."

Robert was not surprised that Albus Dumbledore was the only one to think his line humorous.

* * *

"I should remind you," Albus Dumbledore told the other judges afterward. "Neither Lord Somerset nor his brother are willing participants. Both of them had their names entered without their knowledge, while they have duties to perform in their own world."

Ludo Bagman objected. "Neither boy did anything wrong as far as I'm concerned. Although that Somerset boy did reveal prior knowledge of the task at hand. That's why I took three points off of his score."

Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime still objected.

"That is the point I am trying to make," Albus said sincerely. "Lord Somerset is deliberately flaunting the rules. He is making it clear that he has no interest in winning. Unlike his brother, circumstances permit him to remain here during the competition, while Lord Henry is forced to continue his duties in his own world."

"His name is Harry Potter," Barty Crouch reminded Dumbledore, "and this is his world."

"My apologizes. Let me correct myself. His chosen world."

"Zen why waz Lord Zomerzet entered into this contest?" Madame Maxime asked.

"The Empire assumes the worst," Albus explained. "Lord Somerset is here to add confusion to the matter should there be a plot against . . . Harry Potter."

"Fine, he has to be here. But does he have to be so rude all the time?" Karkaroff demanded.

Albus gave a shrug. "Of course not. I think he does it because he wants to."

* * *

It was Saturday afternoon. Hermione knocked on the door and opened it when Robert called for her to enter. He was standing at the small table examining the golden egg.

"You have your wand? I thought you were going to refuse to use it."

"I think this task requires the use of magic and I need to decipher the clue. This is more important than my personal wishes."

Hermione grinned. "And it has nothing to do with losing."

"This is not about losing. Harry is not here. When he returns, he may not have time to figure this out. I do."

"Oh, it's for Harry. You don't care about winning."

"I do not," Robert said evenly.

Hermione smirked. "But you don't want to lose because you couldn't do it."

Robert looked up in surprise. "It is not that way." He paused as Hermione laughed. He took Hermione's hands in his. "Perhaps you have the right of it, my love. You know me better at times than I know myself. I do not mind losing but I do not want to fail."

"Don't worry. You have plenty of time. You'll figure it out." Hermione pulled her hands from him and placed one on his arm. "A walk before dinner might help you to think."

"If it does not, it will still be a welcome distraction," Robert answered. Together they walked from Robert's rooms and headed toward the Main entrance.

* * *

Tuesday afternoon found Robert in the headmaster's office with a large number of people glaring at him. Most of them glared anyway, but now they had a reason.

"He drew his wand and attacked a student in my house," Professor Snape insisted smugly.

"He never was no good," Argus Filch muttered just loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Lord Somerset?" Albus asked. He was not smiling.

"I was angry, and I saw him drawing his wand."

"You have the means to protect yourself."

Robert nodded. "He was not attacking me, Sir. At least not until I had drawn my wand."

"He admits it," Snape said angrily, with a hint of triumph.

"Not so fast, Snape," Alastor Moody said scornfully. "The boy said Malfoy was not attacking him. Maybe you should ask who Malfoy was attacking. Well, My Lord?"

"Malfoy was insulting me, which was not unusual. The Skeeter woman wrote another article about me. She claimed that I had deliberately debauched a certain female student. But then he began to make remarks about Hermione Granger to the effect that she was not forced to comply with what that woman called my depravities. To state it mildly, Sir, words were exchanged and Malfoy pulled out his wand after losing the verbal argument. I pulled out my wand to protect Hermione. Our spells hit each other and were deflected. Mine hit Goyle and his spell hit Her . . ."

"We know the rest," Moody said. "Albus, It's for you to decide."

Snape was indignant. "I have already given him detention for his remarks to me after I confronted him."

"I hope you gave him every insult in the book, boy," Moody told Robert.

Albus held up his hands to forestall any further remarks. "I think all of you should know, especially you Severus, that Lord Somerset is only following his instructions. He is supposed to express his displeasure at being here, frequently and vocally. If I may have your orders, My Lord."

Robert handed him a piece of paper, which Albus had everyone read. He then took out a quill and added a couple of lines at the bottom. "I am taking it upon myself, My Lord, to modify your orders to exempt the teachers and staff at Hogwarts from your personal abuse. You will see Professor Snape about your detention."

Robert forced a thin smile. "Headmaster, I must point out that I am not a student at this school. Professor Snape, nor any other teacher at this school has the authority to give me detention."

"But I do," an angry voice said. Father Maurice Pannier, quiet until this moment gave voice to his anger. "And when I am finished with you, anything Professor Snape would have done will seem like a birthday party. You will come with me now."

Robert followed Father Maurice, pausing only to turn and bow as he left the headmaster's office. The two walked without speaking until they entered Father Maurice's office. The priest ordered Robert to sit as he closed the door.

"Do you know what you have done?" Father Maurice demanded. "You used magic to attack someone."

"I was protecting . . ."

Father Maurice cut him off. "You used magic to ATTACK. The first thing you were told when you learned about magic was that you never use magic against anyone. NEVER. Do you remember why?"

Robert held his breath as he understood what he had done. He answered in a humbled voice. "To use magic against another person is to use Black Magic."

"And what does Black Magic do?"

"It drains the soul," Robert answered by rote, "And it destroys the mind."

"Exactly. My Lord Somerset, even in this world. Their magics are small, so that the harm is small, but the harm is there, and it can grow. You can still see its effects. The false lord Voldemort is the clearest example. You have heard the rumours as have I. Before his destruction he barely looked human. His magic consumed him. He has damned himself with no hope of redemption."

"And he will go to everlasting hell when he dies."

Father Maurice paused at Robert's comment. "If he dies, My Lord. Even now he seeks immortality, or did you forget?"

"But all men die?"

A look of pity crossed the priest's face. "You know the words, My Lord, but you do not understand the implications. And you, of all people, should. All men do not die. Voldemort is not the first man in this world to look for immortality. Even if he should discover immortality he will not be the first. Others have found the secret before him. Do you not remember the abominations?"

A shudder went through Robert's body. Father Maurice was talking about dementors.

The priest smiled. "Now, you do understand. Those abominations were once men, men who had given themselves over to the lust of power that Black Magic promises. They have destroyed their own souls to achieve the immortality they now have, an immortality they can only keep by destroying the souls of others.

"Understand this, my son. Today you took a small step in that direction, but it can be easily withdrawn."

"What must I do, Father?"

"Why, you simply refrain from doing such a thing again, regardless of how tempting. Because that is the danger. If you begin to think of it as a small hurt, that you can handle it, you will more easily be tempted to handle more of it. And one day, it will handle you."

With the memories of the dementors brought freshly to mind, Robert quickly and sincerely promised never to do such a thing again.

"I will hold you to that promise, My Lord, as will God above. I have heard your confession and I will now give you your penance."

Robert reacted in horror when he was told of what he must do.

* * *

The students were gathered for supper, and Albus Dumbledore was giving the announcements before the meal began. That was when Robert walked into the Great Hall. He was dressed, as usual, in his Naval Uniform but now he was wearing his dress uniform. The gold trim seemed to glow. With his hand on the finely polished sheath of his sword, he walked over to the Slytherin table until he stood next to Gregory Goyle.

"Goodman Goyle," Robert said loudly, "I must beg to interrupt you."

Goyle looked at him. With a cue from Malfoy he began to laugh, and asked rudely, "What do you want?"

"I wrongfully attacked you earlier today, Sir. I humbly apologize for an act I had no right to commit, and I beseech you to forgive me."

Goyle listened as someone explained what beseech meant. "Yeah, I'll forgive you, If . . ." He paused as he noticed that the entire hall was watching the scene. "If you kiss my shoe."

The request drew a laugh from almost everyone at the Slytherin table, and from a few other students. Robert knelt down, and the laughter grew louder as everyone realized he was actually going to do it. At Malfoy's suggestion, Goyle stopped Robert and raised his foot.

"Kiss the bottom of my shoe."

As he held his foot up, Robert dutifully bent to kiss the shoe. As his lips touched the sole, Goyle kicked out, sending Robert sprawling on the floor.

"You're forgiven," Goyle said harshly, but this time it was only the Slytherins who laughed, and one teacher. Everyone else was surprised at what Robert had done. Two Ravenclaws helped Robert to stand, and one offered him a handkerchief for his now bleeding lip. Robert refused and turned back to Goyle.

"I thank you, Sir, and I promise it will not happen again."

Lieutenant Lord Robert Somerset strode from the hall. He had done his penance.


	41. A New Life

A/N: In a quick response to a new question - Yes.

The Church at Avignon holds that to use magic to attack, under any circumstances, is to use Black Magic. Sorcerers engaged in scientific Research support the claims of the Church that Magic used in this manner taints the soul. There are a number of sorcerers who have developed the ability to "notice" the use of Black Magic. These"Witch Smellers" are called in to verify a sorcerer's purity whenever necessary.

Chapter Forty One: The New Life

Jenny Planck was sitting in the park, resting her feet. She was grateful for the cooler days that were coming, but she wished Henry was still here. They had been married five months and had spent so little time together. But they promised each other they would write letters every week, regardless of whether or not any had been received or, in Henry's case, any had been mailed.

Jenny relaxed as she looked around her. This was not Saint James Park by any stretch of the imagination. This was not a place where well-to-do families went to enjoy the beauty of nature. This park was a square of land that had a few trees and a lot of dirt. It was part of an overall plan for when all of London was beautiful.

A ragged boy cast a glance at her as he walked by and Jenny let out a surprised gasp. He had brown hair, kept long the way boys preferred, but when he looked at her she saw green eyes. Her first thought was of Harry's little brother. She had met him once when he came to watch the Quidditch match.

"Whot's wit' you?" the boy demanded, and all resemblances faded.

Jenny's second thought was that green eyes do not make someone a relative. The boy's voice showed no hint of culture. Nor did his looks as he stopped, a snarl on his face. The boy was filthy and dressed in an assortment of clothes that were functional and nothing else. He was a mudlark. One of the homeless children that lived near the docks, sleeping in empty warehouses and avoiding the Armsmen and the Church wardens. Because of the war, those warehouses were now being used, and such children were being spotted in places they had rarely been seen.

"I'm sorry," Jenny said with a smile. "For a second I thought you were a friend."

"Den oi must be a frien'," the boy said, his snarl changing to a smile in one swift move. He gave an exaggerated bow. "Me name's Oliver."

Jenny was amused, but wary. Mudlarks were not to be trusted even under friendly circumstances. "I'm Jenny," she replied, and decided to stand up. As she did so, Oliver quickly grabbed her arm to give her support, and she thanked him.

"We're frien's. Frien's help each other. You long?" Oliver was looking at her stomach which was just beginning to show.

"Another four months," Jenny replied, trying to think of how to get rid of the boy. He had obviously latched onto her. Before she could say anything, he grabbed her book.

"Here, oi'll carry it. Wha's it called? You're carryin' th' heavy load. Ye know th' father?"

"I'm married," Jenny said crossly, "And I'll carry my own book." To her surprise the boy handed it back with out a thought. "Thank you."

"Din't mean nuthin' by it," the boy said. "Me Mum dint know."

"She must be worried about you. You should go home," Jenny said and began walking away.

"She's in Potter's Field," Oliver said as he ran to stay by Jenny's side. "She can woirry all she wants. Don' do no good. Tha' book. Ye can read?"

Jenny stopped, and Oliver did too. "Oliver, yes, I can read. Why are you following me?"

"You t'ought oi was a frien'." His smile faltered. "Just troyin' ta help."

Jenny couldn't tell if his emotions were real or fake. She assumed a mixture of both. "Thank you. Are you hungry? I have some food left from my lunch."

"Naw, don' need no charity. Oi can go ta church fer tha'."

Jenny smiled as Oliver forced a smile back on his own lips.

"I was only trying to do something for you."

"Then wha's th' book called."

"Robin of the Wood. I use it to teach the children to read."

"Could ye teach me?" Oliver asked suddenly.

"I'm paid to teach," Jenny replied. The sudden question surprised her.

"Oi'll pay ye," Oliver said with sudden happiness and reached into a filthy shirt and pulled out two apples.

"You may not like it," Jenny said with a grin. "It takes time."

"And oi'll be doin' what?" Oliver asked. Time was one thing he had plenty of.

Jenny began walking away, suddenly unsure. Just as suddenly she was sure. She turned around to see the boy just standing there. "Well, are you coming."

* * *

Oliver was cowed into submission. He was to have his first reading lesson but there were requirements. He refused the bath until Jenny handed him back his two apples. Then he hesitated.

"What's this? A Tadpole?" Sarah asked as she saw the boy. "You haven't taken to charity cases, Jenny? Have you?"

"Hardly. This is my newest student. He wants a reading lesson, and I need to start dinner."

"And he has to have his lesson in your flat." Sarah smiled. "He don't seem willing. Do you want the lesson, boy?"

Oliver looked up, then at the tub in the common bathroom. Then he looked up again.

"You get off your feet, Jenny. I'll take care of him. I've had plenty of experience making boys do what I want."

* * *

Oliver was pink from the scrubbing that Goody Smith gave him. But he was also clean head to toe, and wearing an oversized heavy old shirt that someone had left behind. Jenny had him sit at the table and began to show him the alphabet. He was eager enough to learn but he didn't seem to grasp what he was doing. She tried showing him how to pronounce words phonetically and that seemed to help. He seemed bright enough but he was also willing. After an hour and a half, she stopped.

"Is tha' it? Oi spent al tha' toime in th' bath and oi don' get more toime in a lessen?"

Jenny laughed. "You wanted a lesson. And that was longer than I spend with the other children."

"'ow many others?"

"Six. Goody Sarah's children, and the children of some friends of hers. Are you hungry?" Oliver nodded. "Good, I have enough for two, and I hate saving stew. And when we're done, I'll read from the book To show you how the words work."

Oliver nodded. He ate heartily even though he had planned to only nibble at his food. He had a full lunch (after a quick run through the market) and didn't think he would need to eat. But the food was hot and tasty, two things he had not had in a while. It was shortly afterward he found himself sitting next to Jenny on the bed as she read from the book. He had never heard the story before, although he had thought he knew all of them. Jenny would run her fingers under each word as she read them slowly so that he could watch the progression. By the third page, he was leaning on Jenny, and yawning. By the fourth page, he was asleep. Jenny laid him on the bed and put him under the covers. With the winter coming, he would have at least one warm night.

Jenny sat the book down and turned down the lamp. She crawled under the covers next to him and slept soundly. When she woke up the next morning Oliver was gone, and the two apples were still on the table.

* * *

Two days later, a familiar figure appeared at Jenny's side as she walked back from the market. "Jenny, oi'm back."

Jenny looked at the ragged boy. "How did you get dirty so quickly? You must have tried."

"Oi got this," Oliver said, and pulled a greasy wrap of newspaper from under his shirt. "Here, oi'm boiying another lessen."

Jenny unwrapped the paper to see fish and chips, still warm. The boy must have run all the way. The nearest place was . . .

"Troy 'em out. They're still hot," Oliver urged.

Jenny put the thought out of her mind as to how the food came here. The smell was too much for her and she picked up a piece of the fried fish. It was delicious.

* * *

It was the first of December. Jenny had made her way to the building which housed the Office of Naval Affairs. It was time to try and draw Henry's pay for the month. She waited in line with the other wives and found Oliver at her side.

"Whot ya doin' here? This loine'll take forever." He grabbed her hand and tried to pull her to the side.

"Oliver, what are you doing?"

"Foine, wait then," Oliver said in exasperation and walked away. A few minutes later he was back with the senior clerk. "Ya can see how me sister is, an' standin' in this loine ain't the thing for 'er. You'll fix it mate? Roight?"

"Goodwoman Planck?" the clerk said. "This is irregular but your brother is very persuasive. If view of your condition, perhaps I should take care of you personally."

Jenny looked wide eyed at Oliver who merely grinned. She was led to a small office and given a seat while Oliver stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder. The senior clerk left and came back with a file. "Hmm."

"Is there a problem?" Jenny asked. She slapped Oliver's hand as he started to make a comment.

"Not at all, but I need to make some calculations, in view of his promotion."

"Whot?" Oliver asked.

Jenny turned and gave Oliver a look and then turned back. Controlling her own excitement she asked, "You said promotion?"

"You did not know? I suppose you would not. It should be for your husband to tell you but there is no help for that now. He was confirmed in his rank effective the date he became an acting Lieutenant."

Jenny smiled. "That was the day we were married."

The senior clerk managed a smile. "Your wedding night was blessed."

Jenny thought of the back pains she was beginning to feel. "I'll tell you in two months."

The clerk laughed and opened his ledger to do the calculations. Meanwhile Oliver tapped her shoulder. His look asked if she was telling the truth. Her flash of anger and curt nod told him yes, and that he had terrible manners. Oliver made it a point to remain quiet the rest of the time.

"There we are," the senior clerk said after some calculations. If you wish to draw the entire pay, it will come to Eighteen Pound Sixteen and Six.

Jenny gasped at the sum. That was four times Henry's normal monthly pay, and that was also a third of what he would earn monthly from now on.

* * *

As they left the building, Jenny turned to Oliver. "How could you think that? I told you I was married."

"Oi don't get it," Oliver told her. "If you're Married, Whoy don' you wroite your folks? Ye din' do nothing wrong."

Jenny stopped in her tracts. "Being married isn't the problem. Being pregnant is. Oliver, I'm thirteen. I can't . . . Oliver? How do you know about my parents?"

"Ye talk in your sleep," Oliver said smuggly. "A word 'ere an' there but enough ta go on."

Jenny shook her head ruefully. "And what would you have me tell them? The truth? Then they'll hate me for sure."

Oliver shrugged his shoulders. "If ye woirry so much that ye talk about 'em, maybe they woirry too? If ya wroite 'em, you'll know. Just a t'ought."

They walked quietly for a few streets then Jenny mumbled.

"Whot?"

"I said it's a good thought."

Oliver smiled as though he achieved a victory. He turned to Jenny and smiled.

"Oi got another one. Tha' man said ye should get a solicitor. Oi know one."

Jenny sighed. The boy was full of thoughts today. But she and Henry had talked about that very thing when he was home. A solicitor was like a personal banker. And now that Henry was an officer, he had a reliable income, regardless of what happened. There was one more factor. Almost any solicitor would have an office closer than Naval Affairs so she would have a shorter distance to walk. And she would be able to choose when to go. She even knew who to ask. Commander Potts.

"This solicitor you know of. How do you know he's any good?"

Oliver grinned. "Tha' Commander uses 'im."

"And how do you know who Commander Potts uses?"

"Don't. But 'e's blind and usin' 'im fer fifty years."

Jenny laughed. He had followed her own thoughts exactly. "Oliver, you've just earned a week of free reading lessons."

They walked the rest of the way, Oliver talking about anything that entered his head. How he wished the spring would come so he could jump in the river. What he would do once he could read, and how he'd make everyone notice him. Good places to find food as long as you were careful. Then, when they reached the house, he said goodbye and ran off.

Jenny resisted the urge to call him back, only because she knew he wouldn't come. Oliver had a fierce independent spirit that refused to be tamed. He would be gone for hours or days but he would always come back.

* * *

And he did keep coming back.

"You keeping him?" Sarah asked as Jenny came out of her flat.

"I would love too," Jenny said. "But he won't stay. He'll be gone in the morning, as usual."

"And with all your valuables, too, I'd wager."

Jenny laughed. "What valuables? He gave me these today as payment." She handed Goody Smith a fruit pastry.

"And where did he get these?"

"I never thought to ask?" Jenny admitted.

"You mean you thought never to ask. I can't blame you. These smell wonderful."

"Um, Sarah, could I ask a personal question. I've noticed you haven't been working. Is anything wrong?"

Sarah gave Jenny a hug. "Bless you, darling, for asking that question. You're right. I haven't been working. Well, I have, with Goody Corman. I'm learning to be a midwife. I got the first requirement down. I'm not embarrassed to see anyone naked."

Both laughed at the reference to Sarah's profession. But now Jenny was full of questions.

"Why?"

"You know Commander Potts?"

"Of course I do. You know that."

"He asked me to marry him." She saw that Jenny was confused. "He fathered my daughter. Did you know that?"

"I didn't know anything about this. I know you saw him frequently, and not always on business."

"He's getting old, Jenny. I haven't gone to see him on business in almost three years. But he wants to do something about his family. His wife never had any children."

"Do you love him?" Jenny felt she had to ask.

"Love? I don't think so. Not like you and that husband of yours. But we like each other. And I'm already taking care of him. Jenny, over the years he's been putting money aside. A shilling here and a shilling there, and leaving it with his solicitor. Over fifty years, it adds up."

Sarah's voice had become almost a whisper. "That's why I'm learning to be a midwife. Tristram wants to use his money to buy an immigration ticket. We're getting married in the spring and moving to New England."

"New England?"

Sarah was almost excited. "Fifty acres of land and a house. And we own outright for 400 pounds." Her eyes began to water. "Tristram says his children, our children, can grow up with some kind of chance for a life. Not like here."

Jenny hugged Sarah once more, wishing her the best. She went back inside to find Oliver in his favorite spot, curled up in front of the fireplace. She gently covered him with a blanket and watched him sleep. Finally, despite being tired herself, she sat down at the table and began to write a letter. A very difficult letter.

The sunlight woke Jenny up and she opened her eyes to see Oliver standing at the table. She smiled at his reaction when he noticed she was awake. Sitting up, she told him, "I finally wrote the letter."

Oliver smiled back at her. "Oi'll mail it for ye right off."

"No," Jenny said too quickly. "I don't want them to know where I am. Not yet. Just in case."

"Oi know tha' word, Cambridge. Tha' ain't far." Oliver grinned broadly. "Oi'll deliver it me self, an' not tell a thin'. Then they can tell me."

Jenny laughed. "You would go all the way to Cambridge?"

"Oi'd go to th' moon, if ye asked me." Oliver jumped on the bed and crawled over to her, laying his head on the pillow next to her, almost as though he was afraid to touch her. "Oi want ye ta be 'appy, Jenny."

A soft hand stroked his chin and lightly ruffled his hair. "That is a gift I do not deserve," Jenny said to herself. "I had that and threw it away."

Oliver went to say something but Jenny put a finger to his lips to keep him quiet.

"I am happy, Oliver, but it is a happiness that things are not worse. I have a husband who does love me, and I know I'm lucky to have that. I've seen other wives after they've argued with their husbands and I've heard the arguments. And the gossip. I am lucky to have Henry."

Her hand nuzzled Oliver's cheek again. "And I have good friends who try to help. I'm lucky there as well. And I have a wayward brother who visits me every chance he gets."

Oliver grabbed the hand that was against his cheek and held it there, as though he was afraid to let go and lose the moment. "Oi'll deliver it, Jenny. Oi swear. An' oi won't tell."

Before Jenny could say or do anything, Oliver crawled off the bed and went to the table. He picked up the letter. "Oi'm off."

"Oliver, the letter to my parents?"

"Yeah."

"It's inside that letter. That letter is to someone who will deliver it for me."

"Then oi'll work a deal wit' him," Oliver said and ran out.

Jenny smiled and frowned at the same time. She knew Oliver well enough that he would manage to do what he said. She had thought her last line would stop him but he took it the wrong way. At least he would confuse Professor Quirrell when he showed up. And maybe it was best that they knew how to get in touch with her. But she wished that Oliver had shown more sense. Christmas was only a week away, and it might be selfish of her but she would miss his company. Instead she would worry about him, running around somewhere in the cold.

But Jenny never doubted Oliver or his abilities. She knew he would find a way to deliver her letter and get a reply. And he would show up one day on her doorstep with bread and cheese or a handful of apples and demand another lesson.

* * *

It was three days before Christmas when the mail arrived.

"Dearest Angel,

With luck, this letter will reach you before any of the others I have written. We arrived at Port Adelaide in the islands of New England only moments before the postal cutter from London. Because we were right there, we received our most recent mail at once. I am still waiting for the older mail to arrive from the warehouse but I had to tell you of one letter.

"I am ranked. The Admiralty finally confirmed my promotion, and back to that day, our wedding day. And now I write quickly to give you my good fortune."

Jenny grinned as she read the letter. Henry had crossed out the word 'my' and written in the word 'our'.

The letter was hastily written. Henry had wanted to get it on the cutter before it left again for London. But he did make a quick note at the end. He had all five of her letters, finally, and would cherish every one of them.

The extra money would be a great help. And now they were assured an income. Jenny sat the letter down and picked one of the other three letters at random. They would all say different things but they would also say the same thing. Each letter would say I love you.

"I love you." Jenny thought, after she finished the last letter. "I love you."

* * *

"He ain't been back," the concierge said as Jenny returned from her walk. It was Christmas Eve and snow had begun to fall. "I begun to like him, too."

"He went on a trip. He may be gone for a while."

"He's clever enough. I'm sure he'll be back." The concierge put her hand on Jenny's arm. "If you want, come nightfall I'll be making some Wassail punch. I've already asked the others in the house."

Jenny smiled at the thought of not spending Christmas Eve alone. "I'd love to come."

The concierge, like Jenny and almost everyone else, hated being alone on this holiday. She compensated by opening her door to everyone. Goody Corman was there and the two talked a storm together, dragging Jenny over at one point to talk about her condition. Jenny left their company after a half hour assured that, boy or girl, it was a strong healthy baby coming that would cause her no end of trouble.

Jenny talked politely to the other boarders who had come by but they had little in common and it was mostly about small things. The baby was always one of the topics.

Then Sarah appeared leading Commander Potts. Jenny was nervous about how this group would react. They were always tolerant of her, but rarely friendly.

"There's me apprentice now," Goody Corman called and, to Jenny's surprise, everyone welcomed her and her fiancé. It seemed that Goody Sarah was liked well enough, but her old profession forced everyone to stand away from her. Her new profession permitted them to drop those barriers as though they never existed.

"Jenny, my dear," Commander Potts said when he finally had a chance to talk with her. "Have you talk to the solicitor, lately?"

"I haven't had any need too, Sir. Has something happened, Commander?"

The Commander patted her hand. "Call me Tristram. And no, nothing has happened. I merely suggested that he evaluate your situation."

"Tristram, I don't understand."

Sarah interrupted. "We finalized our arrangements. Tristram asked him to see if he could advance you the money." She paused and stroked Tristan Pott's hand in a warm manner. "We'd like you to come with us."

"With you? To New England? To Quoba?"

"Now my dear," Tristram told Sarah. "You have embarrassed the poor girl. Jenny, we do not mean for you to move in with us," he smiled and squeezed Sarah's hand, "or maybe we do. But we thought under the circumstances you might consider moving to New England, perhaps even purchase some neighboring land. You have a child to think of as well. I asked the solicitor if your account was good enough for him to loan you the sum, and if not to let you know what it would take."

"If you can't work it out," Sarah said. "You could still come. From what we've been told, we'll have plenty of room."

Jenny looked at Sarah and her genuine smile. Then she looked up at the blind man, whose sightless eyes appeared to look right through her. It was an idea she had never seriously considered. But it had its appeal. After the holiday she would talk to the solicitor. That night, when she went to bed, she would dream about New England.

* * *

It was the third of January, a cold and bitter morning. Jenny had the kettle on and the fire going strong. Sarah and her two children had joined her. It was cheaper to heat one room than two. Then a knock was heard at the door. Sarah answered it and stepped back to reveal a familiar figure.

"Oi'm back. 'ow about a lessen?"


	42. Christmas

Chapter Forty Two: Christmas

Colin Creevey looked out over the Mediterranean. When he was tired of that, he would walk to the larboard side and look at the Atlantic. It was the only fun he had while the Dreadnaught sat idle in the middle of the Straights. He had no duties at present, nor did he have anything to occupy his time. The worst part of it was thinking about his family. It was when things were quiet that he missed them. And things were very quiet these days.

"Mister Creevey."

Colin was running at once. He reached Admiral Grissom and saluted. "Your orders, Sir?"

"Find the Captain and have him meet me here. Then gather your belongings. You are to return to Dover."

Colin was surprised. "May I ask why, Sir?"

Grissom smiled at the boy, and bent his knees to talk to him more as a father than a commanding officer. "Colin, your performance on this ship has been excellent, and the only reason I have left to keep you here is personal. I enjoy having you here."

"I enjoy being here, Sir."

"I am happy to hear that, but you have proven your worth. You are to be given a new assignment, one with more responsibility. Good luck, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, Admiral," Colin said with mixed feelings. "I will pack my things at once."

"No. You will relay my message to the Captain at once."

Colin's grin returned in full force. "Aye, Captain." And he ran off to deliver his final message.

Two days later, Colin found himself on a cutter heading for Dover. He checked his calender against his orders and smiled at the timing. Admiral Grissom had timed his departure so that Colin would arrive at Dover on December 22. He was ordered to report to the Port Admiral on the 27th.

"Sir," Colin asked of the First Lieutenant. "When will we expect to reach Dover? I was hoping to catch a London train."

"March, I should think," the Lieutenant said, and laughed at Colin's expression. "You have not heard? The docks are under repair. All smaller ships have to dock elsewhere."

Colin frowned. "Then where are we going."

"Directly to London. We ARE the mail service. And do not worry, lad. We will have you there faster than if you took the train."

* * *

Colin walked quickly from the docks to find a coach waiting for him, a welcome sight in the waning light. It bore the crest of the Marquis of London. (It payed to have friends in high places.) The coachman spotted him and had the door open before Colin was halfway there. Inside, Lord Bontriomphe was waiting.

"My Lord, thank you for meeting me. How did you know I was coming?"

"Admiral Grissom spent two months planning your transfer, simply to give you this holiday. As it is, I regret to say that I have your orders."

Colin was surprised, but took the sealed letter. He broke the seal and read the contents. "My Lord, why am I attached to Naval Intelligence effective today? I was not to report for my orders for five more days."

"Convenience, Lieutenant. It seems that we need someone to act as a courier to your world. You were the likely candidate. You will be forced to stay there for at least a week, but we will still have you back here before the new year."

"Will I have a chance to see Lord London before I go?"

"Perhaps when you return. I should have you know that he became too much for me and I had to ship him off to his brother's old school." Lord Bontriomphe sighed at the thought that his young charge would be returning home for the Christmas holiday. "And tonight my vacation will be over."

* * *

Captain Smollett smiled at Colin as he handed him a sealed folder. "Your task is simple, Lieutenant. Because you want to return home for a visit, we know you will not object to delivering a few letters along the way. Once you have made the transfer, you may open the folder. A letter inside is addressed to you and will explain everything you need to know. You will take the night train to Cambridge. Professor Quirrell will meet you when the train arrives."

"I understand, Sir."

"Colin," the Captain called, "Merry Christmas."

Colin turned at the uncharacteristic remark, but only said, "Thank You, Sir."

* * *

It was almost midnight when the headmaster welcomed Colin Creevey back to Hogwarts. The tired boy sat down in a chair across from the headmaster's desk and broke the seal on the folder. He paused as Professor Dumbledore offered him a cup of tea.

"Um, do you have caffe, Sir. I'm sorry, coffee?"

"I can get some, Mister Creevey. I see you have acquired a taste for it."

"When the other choice is salt water, you get used to it, Sir."

Colin opened the folder and pulled out a handful of envelopes of varying thickness. The biggest one was addressed to Arthur and Molly Weasley. "Sir, I have a letter here for you."

"Thank you, Colin. And your coffee is on the table at your side."

The boy looked and found that the coffee and the table were both there. He paused to sip the coffee then went back to the letters. He found the one addressed to himself, and opened it.

* * *

"Lieutenant Creevey, by order of His Sovereign Majesty you are charged with keeping all of the information in this letter secret upon your return. The materials you are delivering will reveal certain facts which must not in turn be revealed to the general public in our world. As your position requires you to learn of them, it has been considered best that you be informed first via this method.

"Of minor importance, the missing girl, Ginevra Weasley has been found. For reasons that will not be explained, she can not be returned to her own world at this time. (Colin would have to ask Ron about that. He had never even heard that she was missing.) More important, the whereabouts of Lord Henry Somerset are now known. He is in or will shortly arrive at Constantinople, the Capitol of the Byzantine Empire. Because we are currently at war with Roumeleia it is obvious why this should remain secret.

"As a final note, you are to deliver a letter to the Minister of Magic in person. By chance, should he refuse it, you shall inform him that such a refusal is an act of war. Captain Smollett, Chief, Naval Intelligence."

* * *

"They found him," Colin noted as he referring the second chapter.

Albus chuckled as he looked up from the letter he had been given. "I assume you are referring to Harry."

"I am, Sir. We knew he had escaped but that was months ago. He'll have a story to tell when he gets home. And, Sir, may I ask about Ginny Weasley?"

"Lord Somerset will be better able to answer that question."Albus tapped his own letter. "I am relieved to find out that they have located her, but that is all they tell me."

"I do have a rather thick letter for her parents," Colin noted.

Dumbledore nodded, a grateful smile crossing his lips. "Then you must return here after breakfast. It is a letter I know they will want. Perhaps we should find you a bed."

"I would appreciate that, Sir. It has been a long day. "

As they stood up, Albus said, a note of warning in his voice, "I must ask you not to tell anyone about Harry. Except for perhaps five others, we are the only two that know about his disappearance." The warning changed to amusement. "There are hundreds of people who will swear that they saw him last month, flying a broom against a dragon."

"A dragon? Did anyone take pictures?"

"I do believe someone did . . . Colin, are you eating your letter?"

"I like the taste of ink," Colin lied.

* * *

Better rested and better informed about what was happening at Hogwarts, Colin still rose early the next morning, out of habit, and prepared himself for an eventful day. He left his private room, the same one given to Charlie Potter at one time, and proceeded to the Great Hall. Ron Weasley was there with the twins. Colin walked up and handed him a letter.

"Colin!" Ron shouted, setting the letter down as he stood up and grabbed his friend into a bear hug.

"Merry Christmas, Ron, Fred, George."

Colin suffered the abuse of an over friendly greeting, then sat down to join them for breakfast. "I know I am early. Why are the three of you up?"

"Couldn't sleep. Do you know about Ginny?" Ron said, his smile fading. "Mum's out of sorts over it."

Colin nodded. "I have a letter for her and your dad that I have to hand over personally." He reached into his pocket. "What would be the fastest way to deliver it?"

"At a run," Fred told him halfheartedly. Then he looked at the letter that Colin was holding. "George?"

George followed his brother's finger and looked at the letter. "That's Ginny's handwriting. Colin, let me see that."

Fred grabbed the letter. "It is her writing, and it's to Dad and Mum?"

"Don't open it. I need to deliver it."

George laughed. "Colin, you can threaten us all you want and it won't do any good."

"Yeah," Ron added, "Mum will kill them if they ever dare to open her mail . . . again."

"Maybe this once?" Fred asked, then handed the letter back when George and Ron shook their heads. "Then how about this. Ron, you open your letter."

Ron almost ripped his letter in half trying to open it. All three brothers crowded around trying to read it at the same time.

"It's sparse enough," Fred commented.

"But Ginny is alive and well," George added. "Mum WILL want to know."

* * *

"This is highly irregular, sending four of you away at this time of the morning," Professor Dumbledore said as he was accosted, "but I suppose we should hurry the good news along. I believe the fireplace in my office would be most appropriate." He added with a smile, "I will give you until Noon to return."

Dumbledore led the four boys into his office and produced the floo powder. When Colin's turn came, he followed the instructions and stepped into the flames. Unlike his friend Harry, he did enjoy his first experience. He stepped out of the fireplace into the Burrow and saw complete chaos. Then Ron shouted, "there he is. He has it."

Colin did not have the chance to pull out the letter when Molly Weasley pulled him into a hug and refused to let go. She kept repeating, "Thank you," over and over.

"I can't breathe," Colin said finally, and a tearful Molly let go of him. She took the letter he offered and hugged it to her heart as Arthur came up and put his arm around her. Colin noticed Mister Weasley's look and smiled. He gave a salute and turned back to the fireplace. Using the floo powder he had been given, he returned to the headmaster's office. The Weasley family needed to be alone with themselves.

* * *

"Do you know of this?" Robert asked casually, while his face held a ridiculous smile.

"I do, although it is not common knowledge." Colin was smirking.

"Do you have letters for Hermione and Ron as well?"

"I delivered Ron's letter over an hour ago. I've just come back from delivering a letter to the Weasleys."

Robert looked surprised. "Why the Weasleys? Did they find Ginny? Thank God Above." The surprise became a smile at the thought that something good had happened. "Are you staying for the Yule Ball?"

Colin shook his head. "Ginny's parents aren't the only ones who are worried. I have three more letters to deliver. Then I can go home."

"Then we shall hunt for Hermione at once. To whom do the other letters go?"

"Sirius Black."

"We will find him on the Sea Wolf. And?"

"Cornelius Fudge."

"The Minister of Magic? Why?"

Colin shrugged his shoulders.

* * *

Colin cringed as he gave Hermione the letter. If he could have made a wager that she would hug him, he would have made a fortune. "You're welcome, Hermione."

"You've made this a wonderful Christmas, Colin."

Colin showed her two more envelopes. "Once I deliver these, I have my own wonderful Christmas. I get to go home."

"Then we should go," Robert said, and he and Hermione escorted their friend to the lake, to find Sirius Black.

* * *

"Go away. I'm sleeping."

"Open Up In The Name Of The King," Colin shouted, then turned to Robert. "I've always wanted to do that."

The door opened and an angry man glared out. "What's so important?"

"They found Harry," Robert said.

"That's great," Sirius shouted. "Is he back at the school yet?"

"Um, my letter did not say," Robert admitted.

"Neither did mine," Hermione noted.

"Your letter, Sir," Colin said. "If you will excuse me."

Sirius nodded as he tore open his letter. "It doesn't say. Only that they know of his whereabouts." He looked up. "That Creevey boy left awfully quick. Do you think he knows?"

"He does, Uncle, but he may not say."

"And maybe he will."

"Uncle. He is forbidden. He needs to know but he may not reveal. Those are his orders."

Sirius Black stared. "That IS the older brother of Dennis Creevey? And Dennis IS exactly like his older brother?"

"Yes and Yes," Robert admitted

"Then how does he manage to keep a secret?"

Hermione smirked. "They pay him."

* * *

It was Christmas Day. It would have been a small village if the city had not been so close. As a result it was considered sub-urban. It even had a mall on the edge of the village, next to the highway. All the stores were closed, but the cinema was open.

Briefly, near the entrance to the mall, behind a convenient tree, two figures appeared along with a broom. Then the broom disappeared when it was wrapped in a cloak. Two boys entered the mall.

"Is that what you need?" Robert asked as he pointed to the phone booth. He was grateful for Mrs. Weasley's sweater. It was common looking so that he did not stand out.

Colin nodded. "I'll try to be quick." He picked up the phone and pressed for Operator Assistance. After a brief conversation, the phone began to ring. Someone answered and began to argue with the operator. "It's Me, Dennis," Colin yelled into the phone. "Just accept the call."

"MUM, IT'S COLIN," Dennis yelled, as the operator left the line. "Colin, where are you? Are you coming home? Did you win the war? Here's Mom."

Twenty minutes later, Colin hung up the phone and walked over to Robert. "We can go back now." His smile was gone.

"Colin. What happened?"

"My mum and dad. They never got my letters. Except for the first one that Hermione delivered. They didn't know what happened to me. I thought they didn't write because of the problems, but . . ."

"It happens. All of my letters to Hermione arrived on the same day. All four of them."

"At least she got them. Then I had to tell them I could only come home for one day. They hate me for all the trouble I've caused."

An Air Force Colonel walked by with his family and Colin automatically saluted. The Colonel paused then smiled and returned the salute. He could be heard saying to his wife, "Military school. Navy, I think."

"Should we head back?" Robert asked, and Colin nodded.

* * *

Dennis sat in his favorite corner. He could hear everything without being seen unless someone looked at him. The phone call was over.

"He tried to tell me that he wrote letters." Mum was definitely angry. "DAD, he was actually in a fight. Men killing each other."

"MUM, he's safe. It doesn't matter what happened. He's safe now. When he comes home, he stays. He'll understand why when he's older."

"Do you mean that? You'll make him stay?"

"If I have to tie him down and sit on him. He's too young to be doing those things."

There was no more yelling. The argument was over. When Colin came home he would stay home. Did that mean he couldn't go back to Hogwarts? Dennis would have to ask.

* * *

Colin entered the Great Hall alone, and looked about. Captain Sheffield and his daughter were talking with Professor McGonagall in one corner of the Hall, now empty of tables but with chairs lining the walls. It was still early and no one had arrived yet. He went out the main doors and waited. It was cold, but he did not mind. He could not reach the Minister but was told that Cornelius Fudge would be coming to attend the Yule Ball. And so he waited patiently until he saw the Minister's coach approaching. He could finally deliver his last letter.

The Minister alighted from the coach, Ludo Bagman and Percy Weasley with him. Colin stepped forward and saluted. "Minister, His Sovereign Majesty gives to you his compliments. I have been asked to deliver this letter to your hand on his behalf."

Cornelius Fudge eyed the boy carefully. "You're just a child. Can't they afford to send a man.?" He added angrily, "give me that letter and go back where you came from."

Colin handed the letter, and saluted again. The Minister, muttering about barbarians, walked with his two companions past the boy and into the school. Colin let out a sigh of relief. He could now go home for a visit. Then he frowned. It was now too late to leave. He would have to wait for morning.

"Mister Creevey," a voice said as the doors closed behind Colin. It was Sirius Black.

"Mister Black?"

Sirius smiled snidely. "You are a boy with many secrets. And I would really like to know what is going on."

"I don't understand, Sir."

"I've compared notes with everyone who has received a letter, except for Dumbledore of course. That Empire is planning something."

"I would not know, Sir."

Sirius nodded his head, grinning. "I know. You're just the messenger. All I want to know is who sent these letters. Not one of them has a name or a signature, only brief facts. And all the notes are different to some degree." He put a hand on Colin's shoulder. "I would like to know why you're here. I want to know about your orders. What can you tell me?"

"The ink tastes terrible, Sir."

Sirius did a double take, then started laughing. "You really are taking this game seriously, aren't you?"

"Mister Black," Colin said as carefully as he could. "This is not a game. We are not playing."

Black looked at Colin in a new light. He pointed over his shoulder at the Minister's Coach. "What do you see?"

"A coach, Sir, drawn by strange horses. I don't think I've seen their kind before."

"Those are thestrals, boy. Not everyone can see them. You need to experience death."

Colin nodded to show that he understood, and that simple, casual act scared Sirius Black more than if he were told his own world was at war. He left to take the coach away, but turned back a couple of times, eying the boy with a wary look.

"Are you still here, Colin?" Professor McGonagall asked as she looked outside the main doors a few minutes later. "Come inside. You must be freezing." As she pulled Colin inside, she grabbed his hands and started rubbing them. "What were you thinking? Standing out in the cold dressed like that? You could have caught your death."

"Professor? I was thinking that it's Christmas. And I should be home. And that I'll have to wait until tomorrow to leave here. The Minister arrived late."

"That is typical of the Minister," McGonagall told him, then made a suggestion. "The Ball is about to begin. It will help pass the time."

"Thank you, Professor, but I don't even have a date."

"I know someone, Colin. Come with me."

* * *

Hermione walked into the common room and every eye turned toward her. Robert, in full dress uniform, stepped forward and bowed. He then held out his hand, and Hermione took it. With more pride than he could express, he escorted his date to the Yule Ball.

* * *

Ron Weasley was nervous. He was already standing outside the Great Hall dressed in his hand-me-down dress robes. (Robert said he should have kept the lace cuffs.) Then Susan Bones appeared at the head of the stairs and smiled directly at him. All of his fears and worries disappeared. He held out his hand as she reached the bottom stair. "I want to dance every dance," Susan told him, and by the time they had reached the Great Hall all of his fears and worries had returned.

* * *

"She is a Lady and is to be addressed as such," Captain Sir Mortimer Sheffield said to, of all people, Percy Weasley. "In addition, she is my daughter and your remark is a deliberate insult."

Percy eyed the hand on the sword and went to pull out his wand, but Albus Dumbledore walked up at that moment. "Ah, Percy. Congratulations on the good news about your sister."

"Thank you, Professor," Percy said as he deliberately turned away from the Captain. "Mum couldn't stop talking about their finding her."

"Yes," Dumbledore said, nodding his head at Captain Sheffield. "THEY found her."

Percy stood still, not sure of what to do, then opted to forget that the argument with the Captain ever happened. "On behalf of my family, thank you, Sir, and, um, My Lady." He then walked away a little too quickly.

"The whole family is barmy if you ask me," Sheffield told Dumbledore. "And to make it worse, no two are mad in the same way."

"Then you have not met the twins," Albus said cheerfully. The Captain was laughing as Professor McGonagall neared with Colin in tow.

"Are you ready, Dearest?" Sheffield asked his daughter as the two walked up. "The dance is about to begin."

"Father, If Lord Henry were here that would be one thing. I do not feel right by trying to represent him. And besides, who am I to dance with?"

"You only need be here," Sheffield answered. "You have been told why."

"I do not want to be at a party only to stand around. Even at a party of strangers."

"Captain Sheffield," McGonagall interrupted. "Do you know," she paused, "Lieutenant Creevey?"

"We met last Christmas, at Lord London's estate."

"I thought he might be a suitable escort for your daughter."

Sheffield looked at the boy who was a full head shorter than his daughter. "Caroline?"

Caroline smiled. "Can you dance?"

"My mother always thought it was important to know how." Colin managed a smile.

"You should follow me then, My Lady," McGonagall said with a smile, "the Champions and their dates are gathered outside the doors."

Colin escorted Lady Caroline back out of the great Hall to see Lord Somerset standing next to the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Then he recognized Hermione, her hair straight and tied back the same way that Lady Caroline had her hair. Cedric Diggory was there with Cho Chang, and the other champions where there as well, but Hermione caught his eye. Then he noticed it. Her always too large teeth were now a perfect size. It completely changed the way she looked.

As they formed a line, Albus Dumbledore came walking up. "I apologize for holding everyone up. Mister Creevey, I have this for you." He handed Colin a short sword and scabbard.

"Professor?"

"You are escorting a Lady," Lord Somerset said at Dumbledore's prompting. "It is best that you do so as an officer of rank."

"Is that true?"

"You will be set back when you return," Lord Somerset acknowledged.

"Then you planned this?"

"Yes, we did," Lady Caroline said as she bent down to kiss his cheek. "I insisted they do something for you. Being forced to spend Christmas here instead of with your family." She whispered in Colin's ear. "The sword was a surprise."

Lady Caroline helped Colin put the sword on, and Lord Somerset saluted him, while Hermione curtsied. Cedric saluted as well. Then the Dumstrang Champion walked up and held out his hand.

"Con-grat-u-la-tions."

Colin shook his hand and only then recognized Victor Krum. "Thank you, Sir. I'm honored."

"We are running late already," McGonagall said, "so I want you to line up according to the order your names were called. Lady Caroline, under the circumstances, you should be the last to enter. As each couple enters they will be announced, and when all five couple are in the middle of the dance floor the music will start. If you don't know what to do at that point, you are on your own."

Colin tried to straighten his cravat, then to brush a crease out of his pants, and then any number of things to keep from thinking about what was going to happen. He vaguely heard Victor Krum being announced; the girl he was with sounded French. Then the next Champion and her companion. Colin found Lady Caroline's arm wrapped around his and they began walking forward.

"It is Father," Caroline said. "He is making the announcements. Do you hear how he is making every effort to embellish."

"I wasn't, um, was not paying attention."

"Then listen, Colin."

Cedric Diggory was entering the Great Hall.

"May I present the Champion for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Quidditch Captain for Hufflepuff, Cedric Diggory and his companion, Cho Chang, Captain for Ravenclaw."

Colin and Caroline exchanged grins as Robert, Lord Somerset entered.

"May I present the Champion for the Royal College of Sorcery at Cambridge, Lieutenant Lord Robert de Somerset, Heir of Cambridge and his companion, Hermione Granger, Apprentice Sorcerer and Lady in Waiting of the Order of Saint Agnes."

"Lady in Waiting?" Colin asked in a whisper.

Lady Caroline whispered back. "That means her name has been put forward but she has not yet been approved. And Colin, be careful."

Colin noted her attitude. Something was going to happen. Something deliberate. He suddenly realized that he was given his sword so that he would be armed. To confirm his suspicions, Captain Sheffield winked at his daughter as they entered the Hall.

"May I present, representing My Lord Lieutenant Henry de Somerset, His fiancé, Lady Caroline Sheffield and her companion, Lieutenant Colin Creevey of His Royal Majesty's Navy."

Colin watched carefully as everyone was applauding. Lady Caroline was watching the Minister of Magic who was already arguing with Dumbledore. The crowd suddenly quieted as the argument was noticed, and a familiar voice nearby could be heard laughing, "He's actually going to marry that bitch."

Colin heard swords being drawn, and had instinctively drawn his own, stepping in front of Lady Caroline. Everyone in the hall fell silent except for people who were being pushed out of the way. Two Armsmen, the official escorts for Lady Caroline and her father, approached Draco Malfoy at a run. The first one who reached him struck solidly with his forearm, sending the boy to the ground. He then stepped forward, putting his foot directly on Malfoy's wand arm and his sword at Malfoy's throat.

"Don't," Lord Somerset threatened as one of the Slytherins went to reach for his wand. Before that student could react, he was struck by the other Armsmen.

Colin risked looking back at Lady Caroline and gave her a look which asked, "THIS was planned?"

"Not this," Lady Caroline's look said in return.

Colin looked back at the tableau. Draco Malfoy writhing in pain on the floor. His date, Pansy Parkinson, was staring in shock. Another student grunting, clearly in pain as well. Two Armsmen with drawn swords. Captain Sheffield, with sword drawn and pistol at the ready. Lord Somerset, his sword out and his free hand raised to remind everyone that he could ward off any spell thrown at him. And Colin, his sword steady in his hand, prepared to react to any command. A small voice in the back of his head kept saying that someone should take a picture of this.

"Remove them," Captain Sheffield shouted, and the room became alive again. The Armsmen grabbed the two boys, ignoring their injuries and forced them from the Great Hall. Madam Pomfrey was following them at a run.

Both Sheffield and Fudge headed straight for each other, both furious, but Sheffield had the louder voice.

"How Dare You Permit This. You Were Warned To Direct Them Properly On How To Address A Noble."

Fudge ignored him. "Get Out Of Here. You And Your Filth. Your 'Noble' Men Deliberately Attacked Two Students. Heads Will Role."

Sheffield's sword was out again in a flash and at the Minister's throat. "A poor choice of words," he said softly but clearly.

At that moment, a score of Armsmen entered the Great Hall and began taking positions at key points around the room. With them were a half dozen Sorcerers of the Master rank. Without turning around, Sheffield stepped back one pace and sheathed his sword. He raised his voice so that everyone could hear. "By the power invested in me by his Gracious Majesty John Plantagenet, Fourth of that Name, I declare this school and its environs to be a fief within the boundaries of the Anglo-French Empire. Long Live The King."

Thirty-three voices responded. "Long Live The King."

Sheffield then glared at the Minister. "You are not permitted within the Empire. Take your minions and go."

Cornelius Fudge was flabbergasted. He stepped back, intending to draw his wand, when several of the Slytherins decided to do that very thing. Gregory Goyle was lucky enough to be the first. He pointed his wand at the back of a sorcerer and shouted, "Ga Wa Ga. Da Boo Boo" Two other Slytherins tried to call out spells but they began talking nonsense as well.

Colin heard Hermione smirking. "It's a blatherskite spell. Any person who tries to use magic will only be able to 'blather'. "

"Excellent deduction, Apprentice Hermione," a Sorcerer called out. It was Cameron Mercer. He added loudly, "It affects the entire building. That is why the two students were taken outside to be healed."

Students began whispering to each other as they understood what was going on. Fudge, a defeated look on his face, left with Percy Weasley in tow. None of the teachers present dared to say anything, although Karkaroff and Madame Maxime were having a heated discussion with Dumbledore. Ludo Bagman dared to stay and ask, "about the tournament?"

"It will continue, Sir. However, it will continue without your Minister."

That started the students talking again. What had first seemed a threat was becoming more of a drama. Although several students left, mostly from Slytherin, most of them stayed if only to find out what would happen next. The visiting students stayed simply because their teachers did.

"With all due respect," Professor Quirrell said in a moment of silence, "Could we leave further politics until tomorrow? This is supposed to be a celebration." He tried to sound like everyone's uncle. "We can straighten everything out in the morning." He then prompted the band to begin playing and the Champions (those who needed to, first sheathed their swords) began to dance with their dates. The dancing was forced and awkward.

Professor Quirrell, waited a short time then dared to ask Professor McGonagall to the floor. She agreed, and they walked to join the champions. Perhaps if two respected adults, well, one respected adult and himself, showed the inclination, others might join them. That was when he decided to show off and pivoted on his foot in a dramatic fashion to stand there with open arms before Professor McGonagall, prepared to dance. In his younger days such a move had impressed several young ladies, except this time he slipped. Madam Pomfrey came walking through the laughter shortly afterward and examined his foot as he winced in pain.

"It's only a sprain," she said and raised her wand.

"Poppy," McGonagall called out in warning.

"Ga La Ga Wa Wa," Poppy said in response. Shocked by what happened, and annoyed by the increased laughter, she then kicked Professor Quirrell in the buttocks to express her anger. He let out a yell and everyone in the room roared. Poppy then forced him to hop all the way out of the Hall and outside so that he could be healed. The atmosphere changed as everyone, students, teachers, guests and Armsmen made no effort to control their mirth.

Professor McGonagall signaled for the band to continue playing, then turned to Captain Sheffield. He took his cue and bowed deeply. Minerva curtsied and they began to dance. Fred Weasley dragged Angelina Johnson onto the dance floor, then bowed to her. She laughed and curtsied, and so it went. Now that Fred had done it, every boy had to bow to his date. By the time the first song was finished, the Hall was filled with dancing couples.

The song ended, and another began. Something more modern, and heavier on the drums. The Captain who had so bravely faced down the Minister of Magic beat a hasty retreat from the dance floor.

Those students who had remained in the Hall began to relax and enjoy the Yule Ball. Within the hour, the Armsmen were discreetly withdrawn and it was as though nothing had ever happened.

* * *

"That was amazing," Lady Caroline said as she and Colin stepped outside. "I have never danced like that before. Father must be horrified."

"My Lady?" Colin asked after politely laughing, "Captain Sheffield said that you were Harry's, Lord Henry's, fiancé. Does Lord Henry know about this?"

"It is Father's private joke. He says that because I refuse every boy he throws at me. I know he means well, but I do not feel attracted to any of them." Lady Caroline paused, then said defensively even though Colin had not said anything. "It is not that I want Lord Henry, nor does he want me. It is only a convenience, until I find someone I do like. Those boys were nice, and some of them did show potential, but they were not what I am looking for."

"I understand," Colin said, feeling he should say something.

"It is only," Lady Caroline continued, "that Lord Henry, I mean those boys, I mean . . ." A tear rolled down her cheek. "He had a freshness to him, Colin. He never smiled simply to be nice. He smiled because he is happy. And I noticed that he always smiles, always smiled, when he looked at me. I miss him. I only wish I knew where he was. I only . . ."

"Constantinople," Colin said softly.

Lady Caroline paused in mid-sentence. "You know where he is."

"And I may not reveal this fact to anyone in this world, or when I return."

"I never heard a word."

Colin would have made a small fortune if he bet anyone that she would give him a hug.

"Colin? Constantinople?"

Colin gave her his best grin. "Knowing Harry, he's probably having Christmas Dinner with His Most Christian Majesty."

"I could believe it," Lady Caroline said and laughed.

* * *

His Most Christian Majesty Kyril XXV greeted the two people presented to him in line. When his sources told him that the woman was in Constantinople, and trying to remain quiet about it, he insisted that she and her nephew be added to the guest list. It was always best to have such a woman out in the open, where she could be watched very carefully.

"Countess Olga Polovski, and her nephew, Count Sigismund Polovski," the Steward announced.

His Majesty smiled as the Countess curtsied, and her nephew bowed appropriately. "It is a pleasure to welcome you to Constantinople."

"The pleasure is mine, Your Majesty."

"And this is your nephew?" the Emperor asked, looking carefully at the young black-haired boy with the brown tinted eye lenses. "I had heard that he died." That line was spoken in the German of Brandenburg, the court language of the Polish Empire.

Harry knew he had to reply, and he did so with flawless intonation. "At least twice, Your Majesty. But I have recovered."

The Emperor laughed. "You will go far young man, but I caution you, do not linger here. Your face is now known in Roumeleia. The Byzantine Empire will not smile kindly on you."

Harry took a chance and spoke in Anglo-French, "I assure Your Majesty that I do not plan to stay."

The Emperor was pleased at the remark and placed his doubts aside. But he would see that both of these guests would depart his lands quickly.

A/N: I wanted to clear up a slight misunderstanding in case more than one reader is confused. Henry Planck, as hlb asked, is not an alternate Harry. While he does have black hair, he has brown eyes. Also, he is over a year older than Harry. Ginny appeared where she did because she wanted to go to "Harry who was in danger". Since Henry Planck fit the description, she appeared where he was. Hence the comment, "Oops, wrong Harry."

Also, TimI asked about Potter's Field. It is not a prison. It is a cemetery for indigents, poor people without family. According to the stories, Judas Iscariot betrayed Jesus and was payed the sum of thirty pieces of silver. He returned the money and went off to kill himself. The money was used to buy ground for a cemetery. It was called Potter's Field after the profession of the man who formerly owned the land.

As a piece of trivia, when a sailor dies at sea, he is said to have gone to Fiddler's Green.


	43. Christmas in Constantinople

Chapter Forty Three: Christmas in Constantinople

The Gypsy pulled Harry close to her so that he could see her clearly. "Our time together is almost done, nephew. And now I must embarrass you."

Harry looked at the woman warily. "In what way?"

"The chief of this caravan is going to sell you to another trader, one who has papers to cross the border into Roumeleia." Her grin increased. "He is going to sell you as a bride. It will be a public sale."

Harry almost laughed at the thought but he did as he was told. The Gypsy had never lied to him, and she told him that this was the safest path to travel. With her help, he was covered with the traditional head to toe garment of the most conservative Turkic groups, including a veil that covered all of his face.

The simple plan worked. The sale was made, although he would have to ask exactly how good a price was three camels. He rode in a cart for a day and a half and reached the border near dusk. A glance from the border guard, and the sound of a few coins changing hands told Harry that the ruse was successful.

* * *

Harry was dozing in the chair next to the small bed when she came in. He was still dressed in women's robes when he felt the veil being lifted. Someone was speaking Polish. Harry corrected himself, BurgDeutsch. The German of Brandenburg. There was an actual Polish language but that was only spoken by peasants.

"Good morning to you, child. Permit me to introduce myself. I am Countess Olga Polovski. I am the one who will take you through the most dangerous part of your journey. I want you to keep your eyes open. Do not try to blink."

Harry sat there in surprise. Only his eyes were revealed as the robes he wore still covered his head as well as his mouth and nose. He saw a finger approach his eye and noticed something on the end of it. He grinned when he recognized it. A contact lens. It was put in his right eye and he was permitted to blink. The process was repeated for his left eye and suddenly the world came into focus for the first time since the summer. Once again, an angel was staring at him, but this time because she was beautiful.

The woman looked into his eyes. "How do you see? Excellent? Good. Now you must remember this. You are my nephew. You do understand about being someone's nephew?" She held up a hand mirror and let Harry see his eyes. The lenses had been tinted and his eyes now appeared brown. "Again, Good. You are my brother's son, Sigismund Polovski, named after the father of our beloved monarch, Casimir IX. If you forget this, you will be dead."

She stepped away from him and Harry saw another person in the room. A boy his age and size, dressed impeccably in the latest court fashion from Krakow. Like Harry, he had long black hair and he also had brown eyes, but that was where the similarities ended. He had a thinner face with almost a soft look to it, and an overly friendly smile.

Olga Polovski stood up. "Sigismund, I will leave while the two of you change clothes. You must become my nephew. This one will take your place as the child bride."

Once the door closed, the boy turned his smile on Harry. "Undress quickly. We do not have much time." He undid his cloak and tossed it on the bed. Harry stood up and began to remove the robes when the boy tossed his jacket on the bed as well. Then Harry stopped in his tracks when the boy unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it open. Underneath his shirt, he had . . . breasts.

"You may look all you want but you must undress. We must change clothes quickly."

Harry nodded in embarrassment and turned around. This was not what he expected but it was a logical thing to happen. He controlled his thoughts and tried to be as professional as possible. He removed the last of the garments he was wearing and placed them on the chair for the girl to take. He picked up his new undergarments when a hand touched his arm. He turned out of reflex and saw the girl standing there, wearing only a smile.

"Perhaps we do not have to hurry after all."

Harry could only nod. She was beautiful. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. And it was obvious that she liked him. She wanted to be with him. And as they leaned into each other to kiss he thought that this moment was like magic.

He stopped. It WAS like magic. It was Sorcery.

Her hand was on his neck pulling him into the kiss when his mind rebelled. With a great effort, more mental than physical he pulled himself away. "NO," he growled in an angry voice, and forcefully shoved the girl away from him.

The girl stared at him briefly in surprise. "I was warned that you had some talent. But it was worth a try." Without either shame or pride, she picked up her clothes from the chair. "A pity. You would have enjoyed yourself."

"Every pleasure has its price," Harry growled back. "I think the cost would have been too much for me."

The girl shrugged her shoulders, gave him a whimsical smile and walked out of the room.

* * *

Countess Polovski smirked as she saw Harry's face. "She was only practicing her skills, Sigismund. I warned her it would not work on you, but I was curious how you would react."

"I do not like being used."

"Tell me the truth, Dear Sigismund. Let us pretend that she did not cast a lover's illusion on you. Let us pretend that she simply made the suggestion. What would you have done?"

The Countess did not laugh when Harry started to answer then blushed instead.

"Remember this, my nephew. More men have been betrayed in the bedroom than on the battlefield. That is why women make the best spies. How do you think the woman who rescued you managed to gain access to the prison? Was it because she showed her bravery or because she showed her willingness? Do you understand this lesson?"

Harry nodded, but let his anger show.

"YOU ARE A FOOLISH CHILD," Polovski said, showing her own anger. "I did not tell you this to make you feel small or used. I told you this so you could steel yourself. You are my nephew. You are the nephew of the chief recruiting officer of the SERKA. And you are in the country of an enemy. What is the most likely method that the enemy might try to use to subvert a fourteen-year-old agent in training of the Slavonic Secret Police? Perhaps bribery? Perhaps threats against his life? Perhaps being caught in a compromising position with the daughter of a prominent, though sufficiently minor, nobleman? Which one would be the most successful against you, Count Sigismund Polovski?"

"The last," Harry admitted, the anger gone. "I assume you told that girl to, um, do that?"

"You are a bright boy." The woman smirked. "I wonder what you would have told her if she had followed my advice. I told her that if she led, you would follow." She clapped her hands. "But that is now the past and your lesson has been learned. We shall return to our hotel, then proceed to Jerusalem tomorrow. From there we will take the train to Constantinople, hopefully without notice. With luck, Christmas will have us in the homeland."

* * *

As discreetly as she tried to be, Countess Polovski found an invitation waiting for her when she arrived at the Embassy in Constantinople. It was announced to the staff as an unofficial visit, which made this an unusual occurrence. But she smiled to herself when she read the letter enclosed.

"Sigismund," she called. "Attend me, nephew."

"As always, Aunt," Harry said politely.

"We will celebrate the holiest day of the year in the most magnificent way." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "And we will hope that the spy who revealed our presence works in the Embassy and not with our southern friends."

Harry nodded, then gave a grunt of surprise when he was shown the letter. He was included. That is to say Count Sigismund Polovski was included in the invitation. The first part of the invitation was to attend the Emperor's Christmas Mass at noon in the Hagia Sofia, the largest and oldest church in the world. Then, after a short interval, they were to attend the Christmas Gathering, the Emperor's Dinner Party. It was an invitation that could not be refused.

"May I ask, My Dear Aunt, why I have been included?"

"Remember your lesson?" the Countess asked. "I suspect you will be tested to see how well you have learned. Remember, Dear One, say what you will as long as you say nothing."

* * *

His Most Christian Majesty Kyril XXV, dressed in formal white robes with the Imperial Purple border, greeted the two people presented to him in line. When his sources told him that this woman was in Constantinople, and trying to remain quiet about it, he insisted that she and her nephew be added to the guest list. It was always best to have such a woman out in the open, where she could be watched very carefully.

"Countess Olga Polovski, and her nephew, Count Sigismund Polovski," the servant announced.

His Majesty smiled as the Countess curtsied, and her nephew bowed appropriately. "It is a pleasure to welcome you to Constantinople."

"The pleasure is mine, Your Majesty."

"And this is your nephew?" the Emperor asked, looking carefully at the young black-haired boy with brown eyes. "I had heard that he died." That line was spoken in the German of Brandenburg.

Harry knew he had to reply, and he did so with flawless intonation. "At least twice, Your Majesty. But I have recovered."

The Emperor laughed. "You will go far, young man, but I caution you, do not linger here. Your face is now known in Roumeleia. The Byzantine Empire will not smile kindly on you."

Harry took a chance and spoke in Anglo-French, "I assure Your Majesty that I do not plan to stay."

The Emperor was pleased at the remark and placed his doubts aside. But he would see that both of these guests would depart his lands quickly.

* * *

Sigismund Polovski was quickly separated from his aunt in a skillful maneuver. A nobleman asked the Countess a question while his wife 'borrowed' the boy. Sigismund quickly found himself in the company of a half dozen noble sons and daughters the same age as he. They quickly began to ask him questions but he had the best defense.

"I must apologize, but I have never learned Greek. Never enough to converse."

It was 'almost as though it was planned'. One girl explained to the others what he had said, then turned to him.

"I have managed to learn Greek," she said with an impish grin.

"And I am errant with my lesson . . . My Lady?"

"And I am rude. I am Thalia Menokios. My father is Legion Commander for the cohorts of the City."

Sigismund smiled. She was the daughter of a prominent and sufficiently minor nobleman. "I am Sigismund Polovski. My aunt, the Countess Polovski, is training me for the diplomatic corps, and proving to me that I must continue my studies. On my next visit I will not embarrass myself."

Thalia took his hand and led him from the group to a quiet corner. "It is rude to let you talk in the midst of people who do not understand you and whom you do not understand. And I am curious about your country. We always hear things . . ."

"And they are always bad," Sigismund replied.

Thalia laughed. "Not always but . . . we do hear things. What was it like where you grew up?"

This time Sigismund laughed. "I grew up in Krakow. And to answer your question it is a wonderful place. It is a vibrant city, full of activity. Everywhere there are signs of industry. If you watched, you could actually see the Empire grow stronger."

Thalia and Sigismund exchanged smirks. She put her hands around his arm and led him to the window that looked out over the city toward the Hagia Sofia. "Here, everywhere is history. Everywhere are the signs that tell us how deeply our power is rooted in this land."

A hand let go of Sigismund's arm and gently stroked his sleeve as Thalia began to point out the various buildings and monuments that were visible. Her hand began fingering the buttons of his dress jacket.

"You said that Krakow was vibrant. Are its people vibrant as well?"

"If I say yes, you will demand proof." Sigismund smiled knowingly.

Thalia returned the smile as she moved her hand downward. "And if I demanded proof, would you show me?"

"Here?" came the coy reply.

"I know a discreet place."

Sigismund's smile became cold. "And why would I tryst with a mindless girl. In our country, what you are suggesting is what a peasant girl would suggest, so she could brag that she bedded a nobleman. Are you so weak that you play this game as well?" He added forcefully, "Or did I misunderstand your intent?"

Thalia blushed as she removed her hand from his belt. "You misunderstood my intentions."

"Then I apologize." He stepped back and bowed. "The Slavic races have always been hot blooded."

He gave her a gentle smile then turned and returned to the party alone. As he entered the ballroom, he looked and saw his aunt. He smiled and gave her a short bow. She returned his smile and nodded her head. She enjoyed being proven right.

* * *

Olga Polovski was still smiling as they returned to the Polish Embassy. The most difficult part of her plan had worked, but only by a stroke of fortune. She had taught the boy well, but not for this Emperor. She complemented herself on teaching at least the etiquette of the Court. But before she left for home she had one last task. To inform the Ambassador of the spy who had reported her presence.

"That was a foolish trick, Sigismund," she said to her nephew. "Kyril is no fool. He has kept Roumeleia strong for twice your years. By showing him your knowledge of Anglo-French, he may have reached the correct conclusion on how you learned it. But then we would not be having this conversation."

"My dearest Aunt," Harry said in his best Polish. "He knew what you were and suspected that I was the same. I had hoped to reinforce that suspicion."

"And you did, Dear One," Olga said as she patted Harry's cheek. "Come outside with me, on the balcony, and tell me what you see."

Harry walked with her and looked out over the city. The Embassy stood on prominent ground and commanded an excellent view of the city. To one side could be seen the Emperor's Palace, which was built when the Eastern Roman Empire was first formed. On the other side, an equal distance away, stood the Hagia Sophia, the oldest church in Christendom. It was there, this morning, now yesterday morning, that he had the privilege of attending the Christmas Mass, on direct orders of the Emperor.

"It is a beautiful city, Aunt. Every view speaks of history. London has history but nothing like this."

"The same is true of Krakow. And what do you conclude from this?"

"The Byzantine Empire is dying?"

Olga smiled. "Very Good, Sigismund. They are surrounded by younger neighbors who are also greedy. The Turks always threaten from the south, and we from the north. The Anglo-French control the seas, at least they did. This Empire can not grow. It can only shrink. It fights this war to prevent that. The Turks will get an outlet in New France and look away from them, and the Plantagenets are weakened as a result. They will strive against each other now, because no Plantagenet will ever tolerate anything taken from them. One against one, Roumeleia can always defend itself from any attacking force His Slavonic Majesty can muster. By fighting this war, Kyril guarantees that his empire will enter the next millennium."

Harry listened as the Countess spoke about Empires. Then she turned to him with a questioning look. "My dear nephew, can you find any mistake in his thinking?"

Harry thought at the clever plan and could see no fault with the logic. He gazed downward at the empty fountain in the courtyard below trying to puzzle it out. Then a cloud covered the winter sun. "Sigismund, put your hood up."

Sigismund. That is who he was here and now. Count Sigismund Polovski. Last Christmas he was Lord Henry de Somerset. The Christmas before he was Harry Potter.

There was a Christmas when he was nobody, an unwanted boy living in the cupboard under the stairs. A year went by, and he was somebody. He was a WIZARD. He had friends and he had presents. A year went by again and he had a BROTHER, a twin brother. Another year passed, and he greeted Christmas at HOME, with family and friends, and warmth and good will.

Then a year passed, and Christmas came again. And what had he gained this year? What had changed?

He had. He was the one who had changed. He smiled wryly as a thought came unbidden to his mind. "I have lost my immortality. In exchange I have learned that nothing lasts forever."

Olga Polovski eyed him with curiosity. Then she noted the look in his face. She smiled inwardly. Boys become Men. That is part of life. She had witnessed the moment when Man became more than Boy within her young charge.

"Do you know the answer?"

"Gibralter," Harry/Henry/Sigismund said firmly. "It changes the equation. As long as the Anglo-French Empire can control the Straights, it can control the sea trade into the Atlantic." He looked at the countess with understanding. "A Polish presence on the Mediterranean is no longer a threat to the Plantagenet Dynasty." He saw her encouraging smile and made the last connection. "There needs to be a symbol of trust to cement the alliance, to prove that enmities are placed aside, or at least placed under the table," they both grinned, "and that is why we are here."

"And why you will spend the New Year in Krakow, dining publically with Casimir."

Harry hated this. He would finally put the pieces together and then he would be given a cryptic praise. Something else was going on, and he might not find out until it was too late.

A knock. A servant opened the door and led the Ambassador through the apartments and to the balcony. The Ambassador bowed stiffly.

"Countess Polovski, His Most Gracious Majesty, Kyril XXV, has informed us that your presence entertained him greatly and he wishes to return the favour. He has placed a coach and an escort at your disposal, to take you and your entourage quickly and easily to your final destination. A private car will be waiting for you when you reach the train station."

The Ambassador spread his hands out to say he had nothing to with this and could do nothing about it. The Countess smiled to show she understood.

"Sigismund, it seems that you did impress the Emperor. We are going home."

* * *

The following morning, a world away, found Albus Dumbledore addressing the gathered students at breakfast. Almost all of them were still awake from the night before.

"I know I have talked with a number of you in the course of the night but I wanted to reassure everyone that what occurred last night, while it was not specifically planned to occur, the Empire had prepared itself in case it felt there was need for such an action. There have been continuous arguments between the Ministry of Magic and the Anglo-French Empire over the safety of two students whom we know as the Somerset Twins. Captain Sheffield has assured me that the situation will return to normal once the Tournament has ended and both of these boys can be withdrawn safely. They, and myself, have been very critical of the way the Ministry has handled itself.

"As you know, some students have left. Any other student who wishes to leave, for any reason, and with their parents approval, (The cheering ended in the Weasley section of the Hall) may do so, and expeditiously if you desire."

Colin noticed that Dumbledore was looking directly at him. The two of them had also talked in the course of the night.

"Lieutenant Creevey, if you still wish to visit your family then you may leave with our blessings."

Colin followed Dumbledore's gaze to Professor Flitwick, the Charms Professor, who motioned for him to follow. They left the hall and went outside. Professor Flitwick then forced a small gift into his hand.

"A Christmas Present from the school," the Charms Professor said cheerfully, then pulled out a piece of parchment.

_A Christmas gift should bring good cheer_

_Joy that will last from year to year_

_If sadness or longing fills your heart_

_Of the place you did depart_

_Look upon this gift and speak of being here._

Professor Flitwick smiled sheepishly. "Professor Sprout was trying to write a limerick but she didn't get it quite right."

Colin smiled. "Thank you, Sir. But I will be returning, anyway. At least once more."

"Yes you will, Colin, but . . . you will not be staying." His frown matched the one the showing on Colin's face.

"I have my duties."

Professor Flitwick shook his hand then ushered him into the waiting coach with a final warning. "It's a good thing you changed out of your uniform. I don't think the Minister liked what we did."

"You knew?" Colin asked in surprise.

Flitwick nodded. "Albus asked all of us, and all of us agreed. Even Professor Binns. All the Minister had to do to prevent this was to be polite, but he can't stand being told what to do." He closed the door to the coach. "Now, off with you. Your family is waiting."

Colin waved his goodbye. He opened the small package. It was a picture frame, three inches by two inches, etched with images of the school and the grounds.

A minute later the frame was in the pocket of his winter jacket as he heard the command to stop. A half dozen Aurors had surrounded the coach and Colin was ushered outside. The gates to the school were some fifty feet behind him.

"It's the Creevey boy," one of them said.

"Bring him along. We have our orders."

"Where are you taking me?" Colin demanded.

The Auror grinned without humor. "We're taking you home, Boy. Your parents want you back."

* * *

No one even told them their names. The three men and two women that guarded the house told the Creeveys nothing. All they knew were that the five were wizards and witches, and they knew what was planned for them. Memory Charms.

"Doesn't sound charming at all," Mrs. Creevey said in bitter humor.

Dennis said nothing but sat quietly on the couch between his parents. He thought anyone who could do magic was a friend, and he believed Colin when he was told all of the stories about the Empire. He told the wizard in charge he couldn't wait to go back and find out how things had changed. Then Mum said it would be best if he didn't go back at all. The wizard said that would not be a problem.

They were going to make them forget everything. Dennis would have no memories of magic or Hogwarts or the Empire. Life would become normal again, and Dennis remembered what normal was like. He remembered hiding from the bullies who would tease him and Colin for being different. He remembered not having any friends because sometimes things would happen that he couldn't explain. He remembered having only one real friend, and that was his brother.

Then the fireplace flared and Colin appeared. It would have been wonderful. They didn't have a fireplace this morning. The wizards had cast spells which caused the lights to go out and the refrigerator to die. But a fireplace with warming flames appeared in one corner of the living room that doubled as a den. A milkman does not make enough money to afford a large house, and they barely afforded this.

Now Colin was here, dressed like a normal boy, and soon everything would end. But Colin was smiling as he walked toward them.

"Hi, Mum, Dad. Sorry for all the trouble. Dennis, Flitwick gave me this great present."

One of the Aurors now had his head in the fireplace, talking to someone in the ministry. They were getting the approval for the memory removal. "Hurry up," one of the other Aurors said to him without humor.

"See, it's a picture frame, and it has a card in it from a Chocolate Frog. See Mum, Dad, it's Albus Dumbledore."

Dennis could hear his mother starting to cry. Their world was about to end and her oldest son was rambling about a picture in a frame. But Dennis saw the picture. Albus Dumbledore was motioning. He was making grabbing motions at the side of the frame.

"Colin, that's a great frame. Can I touch it?"

The picture of Dumbledore gave an exultant smile.

Dad noticed it too. Dennis could tell he figured it out. He put his hand out and touched the frame. Colin made a motion with his hand, unseen by the Aurors behind him, that they should take hold of the frame.

"This is something, Mum," Dad said in as happy a voice as he could muster. "You should feel how smooth this frame is." Each of them had hold of a corner and Dad took Mum's hand with his free hand and made her grab the remaining corner. Mum shot a quick look at Colin who smiled encouragingly. Dennis and his father were also looking expectantly at Colin when one of the witches asked, "What's so great about that picture frame?"

Colin replied, "Hogwarts."

Dennis felt something wrench at his stomach and the world around him went mad. Shortly, the world righted itself again and they were outside in the snow.

"WE'RE AT HOGWARTS," He shouted. "MUM, DAD, LOOK."

Badly shaken by what had happened, Mrs. Creevey looked up and saw a fairy tale castle in front of her. She felt her husband grab her in a hug and tell her it was a beautiful sight. She was crying again, but from relief. They ran to the steps and inside, happy to be warm, and Albus Dumbledore was standing there, smiling at them.

Dennis blushed in embarrassment as his mother walked up to the headmaster and hugged him. He turned away and saw an unusual site. Colin and Professor Flitwick were doing s high five with their hands.

* * *

Colin was forced to introduce his parents to everyone. The Gryffindors heaped praise on Colin for his quick thinking, especially after Professor McGonagall explained to them what had happened. By the end of a very busy day, Colin sat down to dinner on either side of his parents, happy and sad at the turn of events.

"I knew what it was," he explained as he told the story again. "Professor Flitwick is an expert at portkeys, and he even told me the part about speaking the name. I didn't realize why Dumbledore insisted I have one until those Aurors grabbed me. He knew what they were planning. He's the one you should thank, Mum."

"I did."

"Oh, yeah."

"Goodman Creevey?"

Everyone looked up to see who had called.

"I suppose I should have said Mister Creevey, I am Captain Sir Mortimer Sheffield of His Majesty's Barracks at Cambridge, and acting Military Governor of Hogwarts during its occupation. I am the one responsible for your problems and I wish to apologize."

"It worked out all right," Mister Creevey said. "But I don't know what to do now. You wizards don't have much use for a milkman."

"A milkman? You have a dairy farm?"

Colin smirked. "My dad delivers bottles of milk to people's houses."

Sheffield nodded. "That will be a problem I suppose, but then I am not a wizard. I have no talent to speak of. I will make inquiries however, in case you decide you might wish to live in the Empire. We destroyed your life. We should repair it."

"I'd like to know why this happened," Mister Creevey replied. "At least I'd sleep better."

"It was my fault," Dennis admitted. "I told those wizards it would be great to come back here."

"Dennis, don't be foolish," his mother said. "I was the one to insist that you never go back. I didn't know how wizards handled these things."

"Can we stay, Mum? I mean, we are back."

"We'll see."

Sheffield noted the remark. "Goodwoman Creevey, I must assume that you did not wish for Lieutenant, excuse me, for Colin to return to his former position?"

Colin looked nervously at his mother. This was all by the agreement of both his parents. His mother gave him a wry smile. "Captain, could we have some time to think about it?" She patted her son on the back.

"I will inform Naval Affairs that he is to be removed from the active list until further notice. I will tell them it is due to a catastrophic family event. After all, he is only thirteen. Even by the standards of the Empire, his parents have a say in what he does."

"Mum?" Colin asked as Captain Sheffield walked away.

A woman always looks forward to and fears the day when her children will be grown. Mrs. Creevey was facing those fears. Her son had been through a great deal and it had changed him. His permanent smile was still there, but the fear was gone. He had learned to fend for himself. He had made friends. And he had faced sudden danger to bring his family out of a perilous situation. She shuddered at the thought of not remembering things that had happened to her, and not minding the fact. It brought back memories of her great-Aunt. She suffered from Alzheimer's disease. Her last years were a tragedy.

"Your father and I will decide in a week or so. I think we need time, just to be a family."

The family paused as they saw another man approach.

"Excuse me," Sirius Black said as he walked up and introduced himself. "I happen to have a friend in the Ministry, a friend of a friend actually, and he retrieved some property that belongs to you." He handed Mrs. Creevey over a dozen letters, all of them from Colin.

* * *

The Centurion noted the private car and ordered his men to ignore it. They were thorough in checking the papers of all the other passengers. Only then was the train permitted to cross the border into the Polish Empire. There the train was stopped again, and everyone's papers and luggage were inspected a second time. The Captain noted the private car and motioned for the Lieutenant to take three men and investigate personally. Diplomatic immunity only applied to foreign diplomats.

The Lieutenant carefully reviewed the papers for Countess Polovski and her nephew. He handed them back without apology while his men did a cursory search of the car. The one of the soldiers stopped when he noticed Sigismund. Their eyes met, and the soldier immediately trained his rifle on the boy.

"Lieutenant, he is an imposter."

The Lieutenant drew his pistol, and the other two soldiers trained their weapons on the suspect.

"Countess, you must explain or we will have to take him for questioning."

"The boy is an imposter, Lieutenant." The Countess walked over to a small table which had already been examined. She openly revealed the secret compartment and pulled out a letter being the Imperial Seal of Poland. She handed this letter to the officer. "I will have you know, Lieutenant, that this young man managed his way through every security check point between Morocco and here without incident. It was only when he was examined by men of the SERKA that he was discovered."

"I understand, Countess," the Lieutenant said as he waved his men off the train. Once they left, he added, "I apologize for not noticing myself."

"May I ask," Harry interrupted. "What is it that I did wrong?"

The Countess smiled. "Lieutenant?"

"Sir, you made eye contact with one of the men, yet gave no order. You should have demanded he continue with his work. Instead, you held contact with him."

"My apologies," Harry said and politely bowed to the officer.

"Lieutenant?" The man turned back to the Countess. "It will be known shortly who this young man is. I want the man who uncovered him to be wearing Sergeant's stripes before nightfall, but the reason must not be revealed until it becomes public knowledge."

"It will be done, Countess."

"And Captain."

The officer did a double-take, then smiled.

"If the reason is revealed beforehand, you and your men will be shot."

"Under the circumstances, it is expected, My Countess. And should that happen, I will conduct the executions myself. All four of them."

Harry knew that the Lieutenant was telling the truth. Something was being planned and if those plans were upset, it could spell disaster. It was better for the Lieutenant's family if he were to accept death over dishonour.


	44. Why

PART VI: RESOLUTION

Chapter Forty Four: Why?

Cornelius Fudge sat in his office, humiliated at the recent events. Those barbarians, those backward people that he had helped, had dared to seize the school. That he was publically threatened was a personal humiliation but one that he could deal with. His biggest problem was that he couldn't do anything about any of it.

Aurors were sent to try and subdue these people but they came back with a confusing message: They couldn't be bothered. It seemed that whenever they came close to the entrance of the school they became apathetic. No one who tried could bring himself to even raise his wand. And now, one of those barbarians sat in his office.

Lord Darcy smiled as politely as he could. "Minister, I did not come here to gloat. You may find this difficult to believe but the Empire is more than eager to give the school back to you."

"Under what conditions?" Fudge asked. His tone showed his disbelief.

"We extended an invitation at one point for you to visit our world for an exchange of information. The only thing His August Majesty asks is that you accept this invitation. We need to explain ourselves to you. This misunderstanding between us must come to an end."

The Minister of Magic laughed derisively. "You call this a misunderstanding."

"I do." Lord Darcy phrased his next statement carefully. "Our conditions are this: You must visit the Empire and meet with the Duke of Cambridge. He has access to all of the information you might want. After he is finished with his presentation, he will tell you when we would like to return the school to you. It is for you to decide wether or not to accept this date. If you do not, you may set any date you choose and it will be honoured."

The Minister shook his head. "Do you expect me to believe that?"

Lord Darcy smiled politely. "Take your time, if you wish. Should you choose to accept our offer simply come to Hogwarts School. You will find no difficulty entering the grounds."

"Is that all?" Cornelius Fudge refused to believe the matter could be resolved so easily.

"A token is always helpful," Lord Darcy said. "I will give you a piece of information. The Creevey family is currently at Hogwarts. You may wish to feign ignorance of this fact and see where it leads."

Lord Darcy's exit left the Minister deep in thought, thoughts that were disturbed by a knocking at the door. It was Kingsley Shacklebolt, one of the best Aurors the Ministry had. The look on his face did not bode well.

"And?" the Minister asked.

"It's a ward, and it completely encircles the school."

"I know that. How do we dispel the ward?"

Kingsley grimaced. "First, we get inside the school . . ."

Fudge slapped his desk. "This is ridiculous. These people are so backward compared to us yet they can perform this simple trick."

Kingsley shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, I did dispose of those letters."

The Minister gave him a confused look. "Which letters?"

This time Kingsley looked confused. "The letters from the Creevey boy. Your instructions said to hold all mail to and from the school if it involved anyone in the other world."

"I gave no such order."

"But Undersecretary Umbridge . . ."

Fudge paused. Was Lord Darcy telling the truth? He would play the ignorant and see where this led. "She suggested such a move but I do not remember approving it. Shacklebolt, did she give you this order in writing?"

"She showed me the parchment but . . ."

"But you have no written proof?"

Kingsley shook his head. "No."

"This is a serious charge, Shacklebolt. I must demand some kind of proof."

Kingsley paused. "I think, Sir, that I know how to get it."

* * *

Kingsley was smiling when he left the Minister's office. It seemed that Dumbledore was right. In the midst of all of this, Umbridge was playing a game of her own. But now he had an ace to play. He neglected to tell the Minister of the fiasco at the Creevey home. Colin, the wayward son, had a portkey on him when he was returned home. It was 'as though he knew what was planned'. Now the entire family was assumed to be safe at Hogwarts.

One of the Aurors from the Creevey home joined him, and Kingsley knocked at another door, entering when he heard the call.

"Is it done?" Umbridge asked. "The Minister wants me to inform him at once."

"Not quite," Kingsley lied. "It seems that the written authorization was misplaced. After all, two wizarding children are involved." The other auror nodded.

"I have that authorization right here," Umbridge said smugly. "There isn't any problem."

"I need a copy for filing purposes." Kingsley smiled politely as thought to say he was only doing his job. The other auror said nothing but gave an impatient look, as though she wanted to get the job done and go home.

"Of course," Umbridge said with a conceited smile. "We can't let this be held up for lack of paperwork." She reached into her desk and came out with a parchment, handing it to Kingsley.

"It is all in order," Kingsley said as he read the parchment, and then gave it to the auror to read. The auror nodded and she changed shape.

"Tonks?" Umbridge said in surprise. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Wotcher, Boss. I'm just a witness," Tonks said.

"And I am the accuser," Kingsley Shacklebolt said as he put the parchment away and pulled out his wand. "It is against the law to forge or otherwise misrepresent the Minister's signature. Or do you think Fudge will remember signing this document."

"He did sign it," Umbridge said, keeping her smug look. "And I have witnesses."

Kingsley did not falter. "I know. I talked to them. That is why I specified the term 'or misrepresent'."

Umbridge began to say something as her hand slipped beneath her desk.

"Stupify," Kingsley shouted.

"That was easy," Tonks said. "Why'd you need me?"

"Easy?" Kingsley asked in surprise. "Do you know how slippery this woman is? She handpicked those Aurors because they will do what they're told and ask no questions later. The only reason we caught her was because the Creeveys escaped. Her handpicked troupe may be willing to do her dirty work, but they don't want the blame for failing."

"Have you really talked to the witnesses?"

"Probably. I have no idea who they are."

Tonks smiled. "She'll get away with this."

"I know," Kingsley admitted. "The Minister will be forced to hush it up. He can't deal with another embarrassment, especially when he finds out how he signed this."

Kingsley Shacklebolt was right. The Ministry did shuffle the matter under the rug. But it did have some effect. Rumors began circulating and Umbridge was pressured into stepping down as Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Her plans to eventually become Minister of Magic became dreams.

* * *

His August Majesty, John IV, looked out over London from his window in the Tower. The war was continuing and it was going badly.

Roumeleia's remaining fleet had ravaged Marseilles and left no major port in the Mediterranean open to the Empire. They were making demonstrations in preparation for an invasion. Fortunately, Field Marshall Markham had prepared for such a circumstance. His own demonstrations were giving the Greeks something to think about. The Turkic ships in the Southern Atlantic had transported thousands of troops to New France and had established a significant foothold. They were also continuing to disrupt the Atlantic trade.

On the positive side, the army was on the move. It would take months to organize the forces remaining in New France with those that could be spared from New England and elsewhere but it was only a matter of time. The news from Naval Headquarters was also promising. Gibralter was firmly in hand. In addition, all the available dreadnaughts had been brought up to standards and construction of new ships were proceeding apace. The Northern Atlantic was still in control of the Empire.

But problems and promises lurked on the horizon. The Turkic fleet in the Indian Ocean had been sent to join their enlarged Altlantic Fleet. It would be early spring when the next great naval battle would take place. The Lord High Admiral had assured His Majesty that Gibralter was the most likely spot. By then, the remaining dreadnaughts in the Mediterranean could be combined to attack from the west, with Admiral Grissom's fleet caught in between.

Reports also came from the Iberian Peninsula. The Emir of Grenada has been having high level discussions with the King of Castile. The early rumours where that they were discussing mutual defense. The Emir's dislike for the Sultanates was common knowledge. Also, the Emir had negotiated trade routes for independent merchants, and these routes included access to Gibralter. The situation was becoming interesting. His Majesty had given his approval to recognize Grenada as independent of the Turkic Caliphate in exchange for the purchase of Port Gibralter.

"John?"

John IV turned to see his wife standing at the doorway.

"The New Year Celebration is about to begin."

His Majesty nodded. Again dressed in military uniform, he would make his announcement. At the same time, near enough, Casimir IX would be making the same announcement in Krakow. By the time word of these announcements were received in Constantinople the combined fleets of the two Empires will have broken out of the Black Sea. A new phase of the war had begun. The Empire officially had an ally.

* * *

Sigismund Polovski sat politely next to the Ambassador from Roumeleia. They exchanged small talk as the Ambassador tried to figure out why this boy should be seated next to him. A brash young man who spoke with arrogance and disrespect. But those questions would have to wait to be answered. The Polish King had entered, his dark-blond haired flowing over his shoulders, and his blue eyes holding a cunning look. He was richly dressed for this New Year Celebration.

Everyone rose and bowed deeply.

"It is still an hour before the New Year," Casimir IX said in a strong voice. "But some things will not wait to be told. As of two hours ago, we have officially entered into the war that is raging around us." He smiled confidently in the Ambassador's direction. "Already, our combined fleets have engaged in a successful night assault on the enemy in the Straights of Marmara. We should successfully enter the Mediterranean before night falls again."

The Ambassador looked startled as he understood what His Slavonic Majesty meant. Then he turned slightly as he heard a noise from behind. Two soldiers with weapons ready were standing behind his chair.

"Our Gracious Brother John Plantagenet agrees that We are within Our rights to take back by force Our ancestral lands in the Balkans, Croatia and Bosnia, and He has offered the help of His naval forces. Together, We will see a people in bondage set free."

Everyone in the room cheered, except for one man who did not even risk scoffing at the base remarks. But that man had received another shock. The boy next to him was taking glass lenses out of his eyes, tinted lenses, and replacing them with clear lenses. The boy looked at him with green eyes.

"We welcome now, Our guest of honour, who comes to visit Us after great hardship. The nephew of My Brother, Lord Henry of Somerset."

His Majesty waved his hand and the two soldiers grabbed the Ambassador, chair and all, and dragged him noisily from the hall. Harry stood up and bowed deeply.

"Nephew," Casimir said proudly, "Come join Us."

The soldiers stopped dragging the Ambassador when they reached the doorway. He was permitted to see His Slavonic Majesty embrace the Anglo-French Lordling in friendship. Casimir wanted Kyril to be told what had happened.

* * *

Harry arrived at the border of Saxony a week later. Officially he was back within the Empire by the right of John IV being the Holy Roman Emperor. This was not exactly correct. The Germanic and Roman provinces accepted the King as their monarch but held the right to control their own affairs. The result was that he reigned but did not rule. Nor could he enforce his sovereignty because these states would immediately ask for help from His Slavonic Majesty. By the same token, Poland could not encroach for fear that these same states would then ask for help from the Anglo-French Empire. Thus Harry had returned to the Empire but still had a way to go. At least now he had company. The Reverend Father Maurice Pannier.

They had settled at once into their sleeping compartment on the Saxony Express. The train would take them from Dresden to Paris where they would take another train to Calais and from there a transport to London. Within the week, the Fifteenth at the latest, he would be home.

"Shall we talk now, Lord Henry," Father Maurice asked. "Or would you prefer a chance to relax?"

Harry started to answer but saw the inquisitive look the priest gave him. "Do you want me to talk or listen?"

Father Maurice had Harry sit down on the couch. "You have been through an ordeal, my son. I thought you might wish to talk about it."

"Which part? My imprisonment? How about the months riding a camel and learning BurgDeutsche? I could tell you about dining with two Emperors."

"Harry, I am talking to you as a friend, not as your confessor. I am worried about you."

"I didn't do anything."

"You DID NOT do anything. Please remember your grammar."

Harry shot an angry look at the priest but found him grinning. "I think I do need to relax." A gleam entered his eye. "Father, I did have encounters with two girls during my journey. It was interesting."

Father Maurice raised an eyebrow. "From the way you say that I would assume that nothing happened, in the physical sense. That makes your story even more interesting."

They sat in the compartment for over two hours. Harry explained his encounters with the two spies and with Countess Polovski. After that, he couldn't stop talking. He spent most of an hour talking about the differences between the two Royal courts and his impressions of both rulers. He barely touched on his journey across the desert but there was not much to say. He didn't talk about his confinement at all. Then the porter knocked on the door to announce the evening meal being served in the lounge, and they dressed for dinner.

The lounge was the front half of the car they were riding in. The lounge furniture had been moved to one side and three tables had been set up for the twelve passengers. Harry and Father Maurice found themselves sitting with a couple from Paris returning from a holiday with relatives.

"Are you really Lord Henry Somerset?" The woman asked after Father Maurice suggested they dispense with protocol.

"Maria!" her husband protested.

"But Oscar, everyone is talking about him."

"Hopefully they are saying good things," Harry interjected.

"Wonderful things, My Lord," Maria said. "How you managed to escape and crossed the desert alone. Did you really sneak into the Grand Palace in Constantinople?"

Harry paused before he answered. Everyone was listening to the conversation. He glanced at Father Maurice who shrugged his shoulders. Harry was a hero and would have to learn to deal with the situation.

"I did not sneak in, Goodwoman Gottlieb. I received a personal invitation from Emperor Kyril himself. True, he did think I was a young Polish nobleman, but I thought it best not to tell him the truth."

Maria Gottlieb gave his hand a squeeze in gratitude for the anecdote, while several of the other passengers cheered politely.

Harry again asked that protocol be set aside when someone at another table asked to ask a question. "In truth, Sir, it has been a long time since I have had a chance to speak Anglo-French. I hope I have not developed an accent."

After a polite laugh, the man asked, "My Lord, you are an officer but you are not in uniform, and your clothing . . ."

"Is the latest style in Krakow. My uniform was stolen from me during my imprisonment, and my remaining clothes are in London. I must wear these poor things until I return home."

Harry fingered the short cut jacket inlaid with gold filigree to exaggerate his remark. He would not admit it but he was enjoying himself. All of these adults where treating him as an equal, not as a child. But then he was fourteen. In this world he was considered an adult. He turned from the man who had asked the question and noticed a girl, his age, sitting at the other table next to her mother. She caught his eye and smiled, and Harry blushed. Her mother noticed.

"Lord Henry, permit me to introduce myself, I am Lady Henrietta Wentworth. And this is my daughter Lady Gwyneth."

"My Ladies," Harry said, mentally noting that Baron Wentworth was the liaison officer for His Majesty to the Papal Court at Avignon.

"Lord Henry," Lady Gwyneth asked amiably, "however did you deal with your terrible imprisonment?"

"I slept, My Lady. The worst thing about imprisonment is that it is very boring. The truth of the matter is that there is not much to say."

His tone clearly said that the matter was closed, but Lady Gwyneth missed the cue. "But to sit there day after day. What must have been going through your mind?"

The silence let her know that she had made a social error. But now that she asked, everyone hoped that Harry would answer. Father Maurice tried to cover for him.

"I am sure Lord Henry dwelt upon the fact that Our Lord God would look after him and guide him through his troubles."

"Actually, I thought about spiders."

Harry's answer took everyone by surprise.

"Spiders?" Lady Gwyneth asked. She had blundered once and the saying was quite clear. In for a penny, in for a pound.

Harry couldn't help but smile. "How much do you know of my past? Then you should know that before my brother found me I had spent most of my life as an unwelcome addition. I was not what my guardians expected. When I was free from my labours, I was locked up in the cupboard under the stairs where my only companions were the spiders that spun their webs there. It seems that dungeons also have spiders. I spent my time trying to find out how African spiders differed from English ones. They do not. Spiders are spiders."

"Perhaps My Lord would care to write a paper on the subject for the Naturalist Society," one of the passengers suggested.

The servers took this as their cue and began setting out the food.

* * *

Harry found himself sitting next to Gwyneth on the afternoon that the train passed the border of Burgundy and into France. They were each given a glass of wine and a toast was made to officially welcome Lieutenant Lord Henry Somerset back into the Empire. After the toast, Gwyneth dared to ask. "Lord Henry, I know it is a vain hope, but do you have a relationship?"

Harry gave a wry smile. He enjoyed talking to someone his own age and he knew he should expect the question. "I do have a close friend, Lady Caroline Sheffield, but it is a friendship of convenience." He hesitated after he said that. He didn't know why he added the last part.

"Convenience? But Henry . . ." She risked being informal. "How is that so?"

Harry started to answer, but stopped. He had to think about what he said next. Gwyneth had, in her social manner, suggested they pursue a 'close friendship'.

"Caroline, I mean Lady Caroline is always having to deal with suitors that her father finds for her. She uses the arrangement to turn away anyone she does not like."

Gwyneth noted his tone. "And how many has she turned away?"

"Um, all of them."

"And how many have you turned away."

Harry blushed. "Gwyneth?"

She stared right into his eyes. "How many? Including myself."

"I have not . . ." Gwyneth snorted. ". . . All of them."

Harry looked up to see a warm smile. A soft hand caressed his.

"Lady Caroline Sheffield is lucky to have you, Lord Henry Somerset."

"You're not mad? You are not mad?"

"About what, My Lord? Jealous, perhaps, but not angry. I would have been proud to have you think so much of me."

Her grin was infectious, and Harry could not help himself. "I have a brother."

Both of them laughed.

* * *

Harry sat in Lord Bontriomphe's study. He was in uniform again, and surprised to find his sword waiting for him. It was almost as though nothing had happened. Except that Lord London was not there. He had been sent away to school. But Harry would have a chance to see him when he went to Cambridge. It seemed that he would have to return to Hogwarts.

"I was expecting that news, My Lord. The Reverend Father told me about the Tri-Wizard Tournament. I am to understand that I have tied for first place?"

"A remarkable performance," Lord Bontriomphe noted. "Considering you were half a world away at the time. Make that a world and a half away."

"I am sure Robert will explain everything to me."

"I must caution you, Lord Henry. As far as your world knows, you were there at the tournament. And Professor Quirrell will explain matters to you when you arrive at the Royal Thaumaturgical Institute. You will find it interesting."

* * *

Harry found himself, to his surprise, being taken to the estate of his Great Uncle, the Duke of Cambridge. Professor Quirrell was closemouthed about the reason but insisted that it was important, that it had to be done immediately. This was not going to be a social visit.

"Your Grace," Harry greeted the Duke, and bowed.

"Lieutenant Somerset," the Duke said without formality. "If you will follow me."

They walked through the large country house to a locked door guarded by four Armsmen. As the Duke removed a key from his person and put it in the lock, one of the Armsmen left quickly, returning just as quickly with four more Armsmen and the Captain of the Guard. The Duke then turned the key. Two Armsmen then stepped forward and slowly opened the heavy wooden door. The opposite side was covered in thick metal. They walked into a small room and another locked door, this one entirely of metal. The Armsmen were followed by the Duke and Harry, with two more Armsmen and the Captain behind them. Harry could hear the door behind him being closed and locked.

The Armsmen unlocked the metal door, and opened it to reveal a staircase going downward. Torches were produced and the party proceeded. After the first level, they passed a small room and the Duke stopped.

"Good Afternoon, Father. Are you well?"

"I am indeed well, Your Grace. And I have kept my vigil. I see you have brought your nephew again."

The Duke smiled. "This is Henry, Father. He is Robert's twin brother."

The priest smiled. "God's blessing upon you, Lord Henry. May what you learn today encourage you always to do the Lord's work."

"Thank you, Father." Harry said, letting his confusion show.

"Do you need anything, Father?" the Duke asked. "Food or water? Wood for the fires?"

"There is plenty to last me until I am relieved. Thank you for asking, Your Grace."

"Relieved?" Harry asked.

"Henry, the father and others before him are the final Guardians of the Traveler Stone. They are also the caretakers. Each in turn is locked in this dungeon with enough supplies to last for six months. It is the Holy Father's presence that keeps the Traveler Stone here."

Harry nodded. The Traveler Stone had one annoying aspect. It had to remain accessible. If it were to be locked away then it would relocate itself to some random location. That someone was here who could touch the Stone, if he should choose to do so, was sufficient to prevent the Stone from leaving the dungeon.

"Henry?" the Duke said, and pointed to the next archway. Harry stepped forward and looked in. The room was as small as the previous one and all but empty. Near the far wall, floating three feet in the air, was a small red jewel similar in shape to the control stone. This was the Traveler Stone. Should Harry step forward and touch it he would instantly trade places with another Harry in some parallel world who had touched the stone at the same time. The Duke spoke as the thought passed through Harry's mind.

"Do not enter the room. Should you do so, the Armsmen will kill you instantly. We dare not risk anyone touching that stone." Harry nodded. "And now, dear nephew, I will show you why. There is one more flight of stairs, and one more locked door to walk through. Once we are inside, do not attempt to touch anything. To do so, for whatever reason, is cause for death."

Harry swallowed hard. "I understand, Uncle."

"Henry." The Dukes voice was stern. "This is no idle threat. It applies to everyone. Including myself."

At that point, Harry heard swords being drawn. He glanced at the Armsmen and saw that the Captain had drawn his revolver and had cocked the hammer. His look was one of grim determination.

The Duke led the way down the staircase and along the stone corridor, and unlocked the last door, again made of iron. Two Armsmen pulled the door open. One of them held out his hand and the Duke handed him the key. They remained outside as the rest of the group entered a large hall. They then closed and locked the door behind them.

"This is a cage," Harry noted.

The Duke nodded. The Captain opened the barred gate, and The Duke, Harry, and four Armsmen walked through. The Captain closed the gate and pulled out a key, locking it.

"You may proceed, Your Grace."

The Captain walked over to the iron door ten feet behind them and waited. He made Harry nervous by the fact that he held his revolver at the ready, prepared to fire at any or all of them.

"Luminos Deus," the Duke called out, and globes scattered around the ceiling lit up, brightening the room considerably. Harry stared at what he saw.

A half dozen tables were in the room. On each table were a dozen glass jars sealed with lead and filled with, he was told, a preservative liquid. But it was what was in the jars that made Harry stare.

The creatures were grey, spindly things. They were floating in their jars, obviously dead.

"What are they?"

"Parasites. We assume they are dead but we dare not take the slightest chance. Do you see the line in front of us? That is the death line. The Armsmen will kill you if you cross that line for any reason. Should you by chance touch one of those jars, all of us will die. The Armsmen will carry out their orders without even thinking. They have been conditioned to do so."

Harry looked at the Armsmen, and one of them gave him a sad smile and a nod. Harry followed his gaze and saw a spot on the stone floor that was stained brown from dried blood. He looked around and saw other stains.

Harry asked the expected question. "How did those things get here?"

"One came through to our world because it was attached to its host. It came via the Traveler Stone. Over five hundred years ago, Sorcerers had volunteers deliberately touch the stone. They hoped to find the counterparts and interview them. With luck, they would find someone from an advanced world. Instead this came through."

"The parasite's host was a human being," Harry muttered.

"A human being controlled by the parasite. By luck, it appeared in the village that the man who volunteered had come from. Sorcerers were prepared for that hopeful possibility. But His Majesty was cautious and had Armsmen there as well. The counterpart could have been a dangerous criminal bent on escape. It was a near thing. The creature had come prepared. Their species was using the Traveler Stone to spread to other worlds. It immediately began to infect the townspeople. It had been well trained."

"What happened?"

"An Armsman spotted the creature as it infected a child. He was rational about what he saw and hid himself to watch. It took less than a minute for the new host to succumb. The Armsman spread the news to the barracks. They summoned aid and surrounded the village."

The Duke paused.

"They slaughtered everyone. They burned every building. They left nothing alive. Anyone who came in physical contact was immediately killed. Condemned criminals were given the tasks of cutting open the bodies. Of the two hundred bodies found, more than a third had these creatures growing inside them. Once the specimens were secured, the criminals were also killed, as well as anyone they touched. The bodies were burned where they lay.

"Since that day, the stone has been under guard to prevent the risk of anyone touching it. We can only thank The Merciful Father that the creature appeared in the one place we were capable of recognizing it and stopping it."

"And the control stones?"

The Duke smiled. His nephew was taking this well, which he expected. Robert had also shown the same stamina.

"It is the means to an end. The scientists at the Royal Thaumaturgical Institute have been studying the Stone to find a means to destroy it. They have found the stone in your world and examined it as well. It seems that one of the theories has a basis in fact and we are prepared to meet our goal." The Duke smiled. "It should please you to know that to do so, we have to destroy its counterpart in your world as well. It turns out to be a rather simple task. All we need do is bring one of the stones to the other world and both should cancel each other out."

"That is good news," Harry admitted.

"Professor Dumbledore agrees as well. He is the only other person from your world to be shown this room. He agreed to do anything to help us in this task. In turn, we have helped him fight the false lord Voldemort, without much success, although we have thwarted certain possible allies."

Harry paused as he thought about what he was being told. "Your Grace, when do you plan on destroying the Traveler Stone?"

"After the final task of your Tri-Wizard Tournament. His Majesty demanded from the first that no one be left behind in that world, and now we must wait. It was thought convenient to enter Lord Somerset's name, to confuse Voldemort should he have some part in the plot that caused your name to be entered."

Harry held back the thought that came into his head. The prophecy had not been fulfilled. He had not yet faced Lord Voldemort in battle, a battle in which one of them would die. He looked up at his uncle for confirmation.

The Duke did not smile. "I will miss you, Harry Potter. I have become quite fond of you. I know Lord London and Lord Somerset will miss you as well. I regret that it had to end this way."

"I understand, Your Grace," Harry said evenly. "And I thank you for your generosity."

The Duke nodded to the Captain who walked forward and unlocked the barred door. Once everyone was back inside the cage, he closed that door and walked back to the iron door. He struck that door hard in a prearranged signal and it was unlocked and opened.

"Come, Harry," the Duke said. "It is almost time for you to go home."

* * *

Professor Quirrell was waiting in the coach for Harry. It would be a somber trip back to the Royal Thaumaturgical Institute. But the reason was not because of what Harry had just learned.

"Did you have an interesting conversation, Lord Henry?"

"That would be an understatement," Harry said with a wry smile. "I suppose you know what we discussed."

Gabriel Quirrell nodded. "I remember when the Duke's father and I had the same conversation. It was so very long ago but it is still vivid in my memory. My Lord, may I bother to ask you another question?"

Harry nodded. After what he had seen he wasn't sure if he really wanted to talk about anything.

"Do you know why we use magic so differently in this world?"

"I never really thought about it, Professor."

"You do know that we do not use wands, at least not the type of wands that are used in your world. Do you know what would happen if we did?"

"No," Harry answered tentatively.

"Anything, My Lord. We have examined your world, not only the wizarding world but the muggle world as well. There are significant differences."

"Do you mean planes and flying brooms?" Harry ventured.

"Not at all, My Lord. I mean people. You, for example."

"Me?"

"Of course. Did you know that you are the only person in common between our two worlds? There is no other person in one world who also exists in the other. You are the only thing we have in common. Yet in your world you can perform magic. You have even been able to perform magic without a wand, while your brother, your twin, has never been able to do so. Did you ever wonder why?"

Harry knew that Professor Quirrell was referring to incidents such as the time he went to the zoo with his cousin Dudley. He brushed his hair from his eyes and stopped. That was another difference. In all his years with the Dursleys, his hair never grew, yet now it hung over his shoulders. "Do you know why, Professor?"

"I have a theory, Lord Henry. The wand you use, the wand each wizard and witch in your world uses, is an amplification device. Do you understand that?"

"I was told that was how wizards perform magic."

"Do you know the degree to which your abilities are amplified?"

"A hundred times?" Quirrell shook his head. "A thousand times?"

"Somewhere in between. But Harry, you must remember that a Sorcerer, without a wand, is well matched against a wizard with a wand. That is why in our world you are a Naval officer instead. You can perform the repelling spell because it only needs the slightest skill to be maintained. It uses none of your magic in execution. But without your wand, you can do nothing that we can do in our world. It is rare to find someone in your world who has enough ability to become a sorcerer. We have found only two, and we have secretly tested thousands of people in your world."

"I know Hermione. And the other would be Professor Dumbledore."

Professor Quirrell nodded. "Now think on this, Harry. At some point in your world there must have been a number of people with the strength of magic that we have. And they would have learned to use magic with your amplification devices. What do you think they did?"

Harry was stunned at the thought. He had no idea. Dumbledore might know. Or maybe someone like Firenze, the Centaur he met that one time. Centaurs were supposed to have long memories. Involuntarily, Harry's eyes went wide as he put the facts together.

"The Centaurs. Wizards made them."

Professor Quirrell nodded but he did not smile. "And they hate humans because of it. There are no Centaurs in our world, My Lord. No Merpeople. No Dementors. No House Elves. No Dragons. These were all the creation of the Mages in your world. And they did more. They rent the fabric of space and time. A wizard thinks nothing of entering a house which is bigger on the inside than on the outside. Yourself and Lord Somerset both went back in time with Dame Hermione Granger. Magic permeates your world and its active use keeps its essence active."

Harry swallowed hard. He had one horror revealed to him. The horror of another world. Now a new horror was being presented to him. His own world.

"What happened to them?" Harry dared to ask.

"We can only guess. Some slew each other. Some transformed themselves undoubtedly, although into what I dare not guess. But one by one they destroyed themselves and their bloodlines. Only the weaker ones survived. The ones who did not have the strength to wantonly destroy. These survived as did the tools left behind."

"Our world must frighten you," Harry said and received a grim nod.

"It frightens us in two ways, My Lord. Because your world is in fact two worlds, muggle and magic. We have also studied what these muggles in your world have done, forced only to use physical means. Shall I list the horrors for you?"

"You mean nuclear weapons."

"That is part of it. But your world seems smart enough not to use them. But there is also rampant disease. Influenza is so common in your world, people think nothing of it. They are more concerned with AIDS which is much less deadly and more easily avoided. They have taken to the skies and even to the planets yet they destroy their own world and argue about how much longer they can continue to do so before it is too late. Your population has grown unchecked so that it threatens to destroy you should all your other efforts fail. And the worst thing about this is that your world is aware of it. But they can do nothing to stop themselves. To our world, your planet is barbaric."

Professor Quirrell noted the hurt look in Harry's eyes. He had shredded the young man's view of his home world and left him little. "Lord Henry, please understand this. In some ways your world is a vision of our future. We are grateful for the forewarning. But in other ways it is the result of making a different choice. The democracies in your world accelerated progress. That in itself was a good thing, but they failed to spread wisdom with it. Your world grew up too fast. But its people are resourceful in ways we have not thought of. They may escape the traps they have set for themselves. I pray to God that they do."

"Amen," Harry said automatically. "Professor, the Duke of Cambridge told me what the Empire plans to do. You do not have to call me a lord anymore."

"A fool is a fool is a fool," Professor Quirrell said, then quickly added, "I mean myself, My Lord. I am berating your former world and you are convinced that you have to stay there. And you would do so willingly if your brothers were there instead of here."

"I DON'T have a choice," Harry said emphatically.

"You do, My Lord Henry de Somerset. You only have to remind His August Majesty of his promise."

"I know of his promise," Harry snarled, "but he only has to help until it is time to leave. There are more important things. The Empire will not risk defying the prophecy." His look softened. "But thank you for trying to give me hope."

"Hope is the eternal truth, My Lord. It does not die until the last breath. Might I make a suggestion? For when you return?"

"What is it?"

"Retain your rank. As long as you insist on being part of the Empire, the Empire must acknowledge you. The Plantagenets have never deserted their own."

Harry shared the Professor's grim smile. "I will, Professor."

"And I promise that I will try my best to find a way for you to stay with your family."


	45. Hope and Artfulness

Chapter Forty Five: Hope and Artfulness

"Harry!" Hermione ran up and hugged him as he entered the common room. "Are you back to stay?"

Harry had to smile. "Yes, I am back."

Fred and George were the next to greet him. They asked the same question they asked Robert. "Have you heard from Ginny?"

"Only the one package she sent me. I was told she wrote your parents?"

"Yeah. They wouldn't tell us much except that she was fine. Mom's threatened Professor Quirrell. She wants to go find her. Ginny wouldn't say where she was. She gave him a letter to send to her but . . ."

Harry understood. "He does not know where she is."

By the time the conversation ended almost everyone else had gathered in the common room. Harry spent most of the afternoon assuring everyone he would not be leaving. They all asked about his glasses.

"We have time before dinner," Hermione said after she could finally get him away from everyone. "Why don't we find Robert."

Harry smiled at the thought, then noticed her hand. "Is that a ring?"

Hermione blushed, but pulled him out of the common room before she would say anything.

"Robert and I made it official. We won't be married for another five years, because of my schooling, but I'm going with the two of you when the tournament is over. I'm going to be a Sorcerer . . . and a Lady."

Harry smiled in spite of being reminded of his secret. "I am happy for both of you."

Hermione smirked. "Your fiancé was here for the Yule Ball. Have you made it official?"

Harry's smile faded. "Lady Caroline and I will not be getting married. It seems that it was not meant to be."

Hermione grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "I'm sorry to hear that. I hope it's for the best." She pulled him down another corridor. "This way."

"But Hufflepuff . . ."

"Robert isn't in Hufflepuff. He has a private room."

"Oh, right." Harry remembered about his brother representing the School of Sorcery.

* * *

Robert opened the door and immediately grabbed Harry in a bear hug. Harry returned the favor. Hermione almost laughed when she saw tears in both their eyes.

"They told me nothing, brother. Only that they knew where you were." He paused. "Your glasses?"

Harry smirked and reached into his eye and showed him the contact lense. "The Polish Empire has a new advance in eye care. His Slavonic Majesty gave me several pair as a gift. I even have a pair of tinted lenses."

Robert smiled. "And we were just beginning to look more alike." He laughed at Harry's quizzical look and lifted the hair off his forehead to reveal a jagged scar which could be said to be shaped like a lightning bolt.

"Harry, how is Roger?"

"I never had a chance to see him." A pause. "I visited your godfather."

A simple nod. "Did he say anything?"

"As soon as the tournament is over."

"I see."

Robert grabbed his brother in another hug, and began crying again.

"Robert?" Hermione asked.

"I will explain later."

* * *

A small crowd gathered in Robert's room. Two sets of twins, Hermione, Ron Weasley and Susan Bones, Colin and his brother Dennis and, lastly, Cedric Diggory. There were also three Golden Eggs.

"Cedric discovered the secret, " Robert explained.

"And Robert promised not to tell anyone but you," Cedric added. "He led me to believe the two of you would be alone when he told you."

Fred grinned. "It's easier to cheat if more people are involved."

Cedric raised his eyes to the ceiling and shook his head, "I think we've passed that point. Now we're just trying to get through this. Harry, do you know how to create a bubble of air?"

"No."

"Well, you have a month to learn. Or you could try Robert's plan."

"And Robert's plan is?"

"It is Lord Darcy's idea to be honest." Robert smirked. "I have smuggled scuba gear into the school. I will get no points for blatantly cheating, again, but it will confuse them."

"Scuba?" Ron asked.

"Bubbleheads for muggles," Cedric answered, as though he had always known what it was.

"You could ask Ludo Bagman for advice," Ron offered. "He's been asking everyone about you. I think he really wants you to win."

"Maybe I will," Harry suggested. "After all, I cheated on the first task."

Robert and Hermione suddenly became curious about anything else while Fred and George looked not poignantly at Ron and Susan. Cedric and Colin only smiled. It was Dennis who asked.

"How did you cheat? They said it was legal to call your broom."

"Did I use a broom?"

"Yeah." Dennis frowned at the strange question.

"Was it Polyjuice Potion?" Fred asked.

"Who took your place?" George demanded.

Dennis understood what had happened. That someone had taken Harry's place. "You cheated," he said indignantly.

"I thought you knew. I thought that was why you were here."

"He's here because he kept pestering me," Colin answered.

"It worked," Dennis added bashfully.

* * *

Harry never had the chance to approach Ludo Bagman. Ludo Bagman approached him. It took less then ten minutes, but Bagman had given Harry the means to perform the second task.

"It's Gillyweed. I thought that's why you came to see me?"

"Mister Bagman, you were the one who came up to me."

"But you were heading in my direction. It is my fault for assuming. Take the Gillyweed anyway, just in case you can't think of a better idea."

* * *

February came, as did the second task. Harry excelled in spite of himself, by showing moral fiber. Robert was amused at his error and at its results. The Veela girl, however, was appreciative that Harry had made the effort to rescue her sister as well as Ron.

Robert was pleased as well. He did manage to rescue Hermione, despite his heavy gear and his refusal to use magic in the course of the task. His score was higher than he expected because the judges had accepted the fact that he was not trying to win. The scores were to show what they thought of his cleverness.

But one thing happened, a serious matter, that went unnoticed by everyone. Robert and Hermione were sitting together after the task was over, when Hermione said there was something in her hair. Without even thinking about it, Robert plucked the beetle out of her hair and crushed it, flinging the remains away, saying simply that it was only a bug.

Ironically, the Daily Prophet accused him of being somehow responsible for the mysterious disappearance of their most popular reporter.

* * *

Lord Darcy was enjoying himself. Once again he had the chance to play the detective. He stood and watched as the people entered the teachers lounge and took their seats, wishing only that his revelation could be more dramatic.

"Good Evening to you, My Lords and Ladies, Goodmen and Goodwomen. And I thank you, Professor Dumbledore, for permitting this meeting. I promise I will not keep you long. You will still have time to change for dinner."

"And zis meeting iz because?" Madame Maxime asked.

"Permit me, Madame. I am Lord Darcy, Chief Criminal Investigator for His Highness, the Duke of Normandy. I am on a special assignment from His Majesty, John IV, to investigate the matter of his nephew's name being entered into the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

"His nephew?" Karkaroff scoffed. "It was your king's idea in the first place."

"I am referring to Lord Henry, not to Lord Robert."

Karkaroff started to say something but someone behind him snorted. It was Viktor Krum. He turned and saw almost every champion trying to hide a grin.

Ludo Bagman openly laughed. "We always knew Harry was someone special. Now we know he's special in two worlds."

Lord Darcy smiled at the remark. He continued to smile as he turned from Ludo Bagman to look at the Professors that had gathered. His eyes passed over McGonagall and Snape and stopped at the DADA Professor.

"Professor Moody. Would you agree that Lord Henry is someone special?"

Moody did not smile. His magic eye was fixed, not on Lord Darcy, but on Master Sorcerer Sean O'Lochlainn who was preparing his brazier in the corner of the room. "Of course he's special. He stopped Voldemort once and he has it within him to stop Voldemort again. That makes him very special in my book."

"Special enough to help him in his task?"

"I did nothing that anyone else would have done if they could, for their school champions. Especially you, Karkaroff. You wouldn't mind going back on your promise to be fair if it would help you win."

"I don't have to take that from you, Moody," Karkaroff said but lapsed into silence when the magical eye turned in his direction.

"Maybe you do," Moody said with a mirthless grin, then turned back to Lord Darcy. "I guess if you know what I did then you know I didn't do it alone." This time he looked at Ludo Bagman. "You already know who helped me."

"I do, Professor Moody," Lord Darcy admitted. "And I should question your interference, except neither you nor Minister Bagman were the only ones."

Four of the Five Champions fidgeted in their seats when Lord Darcy turned to look at them. "I will make this easy for everyone. The Beauxbatons Champion, Fleur Delacour, was the least guilty. She merely offered her help. Viktor Krum, the Drumstrang Champion actually suggested the means of solving the clue to the second task. After all, Lord Henry was not involved by choice and had not had the chance to pursue the task for several months. Krum did not know that the remaining champions had already told Lord Henry exactly what the clue was and were coaching him on how to perform possible spells."

"Excuse me," Professor Dumbledore said, "I know that the Champions were guilty of bending the rules, to varying degrees, but I think we should commend them for their willingness to keep this contest fair on a higher level, so that everyone could compete on an equal footing."

Madame Maxime nodded, although her amusement showed. Karkaroff, having no choice, went along with Dumbledore's politely phrased suggestion that they simply forget the matter.

"None of this," Lord Darcy continued, "tells us the perpetrator of the crime. But it does give us a clue. It eliminates a great number of people. Because whomever wanted Lord Henry Somerset to participate clearly wanted him to win."

"How can you possibly know that?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"It is simple deduction. To date, no one was done anything to cause hurt to Lord Henry. But several people have made efforts to help him. In particular, Professor Moody and Minister Bagman."

"You are a smart man," Moody said with an honest smile. "You didn't let my credentials scare you away from suspecting me."

"My dear Sir, I suspect everyone of everything unless I can determine the truth. Be that as it may, I know that you did not enter Lord Henry's name." Lord Darcy turned to Ludo Bagman. "Sir, would you like to explain why? Or should I?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Bagman insisted as all eyes turned on him.

Lord Darcy simply smiled. "I have talked to almost everyone I could find in the course of my investigation. Several Goblins were interested in what I was doing once they understood the possible results."

Ludo Bagman's face immediately drained of blood.

"I, I had to," Bagman stammered. "I know I have a problem with gambling but this seemed like a sure thing. I . . ." He stopped and gave Lord Darcy a defeated look as the group murmured about his confession.

"It was easy to trace the crime to you, Mister Bagman. You did little to cover your tracks. In fact you were almost blatant about it. The only thing that kept anyone from suspecting you was the thought that someone did this out of hate, not greed. As it is, my duties here are complete and I will return home to my family. I will leave your fate to your peers."

Ludo Bagman watched as Lord Darcy left the room. He barely noticed that the Lords Somerset followed him. No one noticed that Master Sean did not.

"Uncle?" Lord Henry dared to ask once they caught up with him. "Will I see you again?"

Lord Darcy smiled. "At least once more." He leaned into both boys and whispered. "It seems that Professor Gabriel Quirrell wants me to do a favour for him, and I have agreed. I do not plan on falling in my task."

"What kind of favour?" Robert, Lord Somerset asked.

"The resolution of a prophecy," his uncle explained. "But that must wait as I have to return and make my report."

"Thank you, Uncle," Lord Henry said warmly. "And, um, . . ."

"Goodman Lupin is fine and well. And he is entertaining thoughts."

Harry and Robert grinned. "Could you ask him to hurry? Just in case?"

Lord Darcy laughed. "Professor Quirrell was right. It is amazing to watch the two of you do that. And slightly scary."

"We know," they said together.

* * *

"They did it," Dennis Creevey shouted as Harry walked into the Gryffindor common room with his brother.

Harry looked amused. Dennis was not talking about the Second Task nor the meeting that took place afterward. "Who did what?"

"My Mum and Dad. They agreed to let Colin go back." He spoke in a loud whisper so everyone could hear. "They might let me go, too."

"They won't," Colin said as he came down the steps from his dorm. He was dressed in his uniform again. Robert noted he didn't have the sword anymore.

"How?" Robert had to ask.

Colin smiled. "Admiral Grissom. He wrote a letter to my folks. And he had others write to them as well. Including Lieutenant Orley."

"And he is?" Harry asked.

"Alive and well," Robert answered. He smiled knowing what the subject of conversation would be over dinner.

* * *

Henry Plank was beside himself. The luck of a storm brought him to London in time for the momentous occasion. But all he could do was sit and wait.

The HRMS Adventurer had been prowling the waters between New France and Africa when a sudden storm came from the west forcing the ship to head north, almost making it. Weather beaten but still afloat, they found themselves and their prize close to Grenada. A passing cutter, the same mail ship that had carried Colin Creevey, had advised them to head to Dover for repairs. Given two weeks furlough, Henry caught the first train to London.

Now he was pacing outside his flat, his only companion a grubby nine year old.

"She'll be a'roight," the boy said as a scream came from inside. Henry rushed to the locked door and stood there like a fool. It was a baby's scream.

Several minutes later, Goody Corman opened the door and smiled at him. "Yer a father, boy. Now get inside." Oliver went to follow but she stopped him. "You'll get your chance soon enough. It's them that needs to be alone."

As she closed the door, Oliver asked, "Whot is it?"

"A boy," Goody Corman whispered. "Henry Arthur Planck."

Inside the room, a tired but happy girl lay on the bed with the new born child nestled in the crook of her arm.

"He's beautiful," Henry said as he looked down at mother and child.

"I wish you could stay," Jenny said. "I see so little of you."

"I wish I could." Henry hesitated. "I've thought about your Christmas letter. About Port Adelaide. I think it would be a good idea. That's where we resupply. I could see you at least every three months, hopefully."

"But I can't leave now," Jenny said.

"I've talked with a few people. Captain Slye said he would call in a favour. If things work out. They're letting families travel west on military ships."

Jenny smiled at her husband. He would do anything to spend time with her. Almost anything. His duties had to come first. But he had a good point. A military ship would be safer, as far as the health of the baby. They needed the men to be in their best physical shape, making hygiene an important issue.

"May, maybe June," Jenny said softly. "It will depend upon Harry." And it would. If the baby thrived. If the healer agreed. If nothing else went wrong with her life. She looked at Henry's hand, the one with three fingers. An accident took two of them away in the blink of an eye. And it could have been worse. It didn't even happen during a battle.

* * *

"Lord Darcy has made his report, Your Majesty. Everything that could be done, has been made ready."

"Has Dumbledore been informed? And has he been made aware of the risks?"

The Lord Seneschal nodded. "Yes to both, Your Majesty. He finds these risks acceptable. The sorcerer made a demonstration to prove how effective the spells would be. He has also assured us that no one suspects. Least of all the counterfeit Alistor Moody."

"We are pleased. The Plantagenets always honour their pledges."

* * *

Henry Planck was sitting with Commander Potts as Sarah and the children marveled at the new baby. The Commander was eager to hear fresh stories from the sea.

"Lieutenant, where did your sword come from?" Tristram Potts asked at one point.

Henry paused in embarrassment. "I do not have one, Sir. I haven't had the time." He did not want to admit that it would be a while before he could afford a proper sword.

Tristram smiled and called out. "Sarah, I need my package after all."

Sarah grinned, and asked Jenny's pardon as she went to her flat. She returned shortly. Henry stared at what she was holding and watched as she gave the sword to Tristram, who was still smiling.

Tristram took the sword when it was placed in his hands. He held it out, and said to Henry, "Will you accept my sword. It has sat in a closet for too long."

Henry Planck stared at the fine scabbard and the handsomely crafted hilt. He knew the blade must also be of high quality. He wanted to refuse, but the tone of the old man's voice almost begged him to do this.

"It would be an honour, Commander."

Commander Tristram Potts smiled in relief. "I am proud to present this sword to you, Lieutenant Planck. As you receive honour by this sword, may you give honour to it."

Henry took the sword from Tristram's hands. "I will do my duty, Commander. I can do no more."

Suddenly Sarah was there, thrusting mugs of ale into each of their hands and brandishing one of her own. She wanted to shout the words but she had to think of the baby. "Here's to Lieutenant Henry Planck."

* * *

"Lord Henry," The lady said as she walked up to him outside the Great Hall.

"Missus Creevey," Harry replied, bowing slightly.

"Shouldn't that be Goodwoman Creevey? We are in your Empire."

Harry nodded his head. "Goodwoman Creevey. What can I do for you?"

Mrs. Creevey pursed her lips. "It's about Colin. He went back this morning. I need to know if I did the right thing."

Harry stood there nervously. Why was she asking him? As far as she was concerned he was still a boy as well. "I do not know," he finally answered. "I am not even sure that the choices I am making are correct. I can only hope that everything turns out for the best."

Mrs. Creevey mumbled something polite and walked away. Harry stood there watching her. For months he had been treated as an adult by people who knew better. He had even made it a point to let others know that in his adopted world he was considered an adult. Yet this one woman, by taking his words at face value, made him feel like a child.

No longer feeling hungry, he went outside and walked down to the ship. Perhaps talking to Sirius Black would help. He was always good at helping Harry sound things out. As he walked to the ship it was a different voice that greeted him.

"My Lord Darcy, have you returned already?"

"I was asked to talk to your headmaster, and I decided to talk to a few new friends as well. I was also giving your godfather a letter and the latest news from Remus Lupin."

"Is he well?!" Harry asked, delighted at the chance for some news.

"A June wedding from the sounds of things." Lord Darcy noted the change of expression on his nephew's face. "And a good possibility that you might be asked to attend."

"My Lord?"

"Always hope, Harry. All we need is the right moment, the right piece of information, and your difficulties are resolved. Tell no one about this, but that is also one of the reasons I am here."

"Uncle, will you be staying long?"

"Sadly, I must leave anon. Lord Bontriomphe received a letter from Saint Cathal's Academy. It seems that your brother is in trouble."

"What did he do?"

Lord Darcy wore an infectious grin. "I have no idea. But if I know Lord London, he will be laughing when he tells you about it."

Harry remembered the time he and Lord Bontriomphe found Lord London hiding behind the heating grate. "I believe you, Uncle. Nor do I regret you your task."

Lord Darcy clapped Harry's shoulder. "Let us get something to eat before we go, Nephew. I want you to explain why that glint came to your eye when I mentioned your brother and trouble in the same sentence."

"Gladly, Uncle."

* * *

Jenny was thrilled at the turn of events. At only two months of age, Harry Arthur Planck was pronounced fit to travel. The healer said it might even be healthier for him, considering the neighborhood he was growing up in.

Now the time came for her to tell the only other man in her life. She looked at Oliver who was gently rocking the baby in his arms as they walked through the park.

"'ats roight, 'arry. Sleep whoyel ya can." He looked up. "'e smoiled at me."

"He likes you, Oliver." She tried to hold her smile. "Oliver, Henry and I were talking about moving to New England. What do you think of the idea?"

"Whot, and leave London?" he asked with a laugh. Harry cried at the sudden noise and Jenny took him to calm him down. "Sorry, Jenny."

"It's my fault. I caught you by surprise. I thought you would want to come with us. Henry thinks it's a wonderful idea. He likes you, too."

"But London's me 'ome?" Oliver said in surprise. "Whoy would I wont ta leave? Whoy would you? Ya can stay here. I can show 'arry the ins and out o' the town. 'e'll be as good as can be, jus' loike me." Oliver gave his best winning smile.

"Oliver, I don't want Harry to grow up to be like you." The words were out before Jenny realized what she had said.

Oliver staggered backward, as though he had been physically hit. Jenny saw the tears forming in his eyes as he suddenly turned and ran. He was still running as hard as he could when he disappeared from sight. But Jenny couldn't call after him. She had Harry in her arms. The baby had to come first.

She walked back to the flat and lay Harry in his crib. Once he was asleep, she went to the dresser to pick up her hairbrush. She had to do something and combing her hair was the first thing that came to mind.

Jenny looked in the mirror, and for one second she did not see her face. She could have sworn that she was looking at Molly Weasley.

Jenny Planck had grown up. The child of a year ago no longer existed except as a memory. The thoughts of the Burrow welled up inside of her, as they did from time to time, but this once she did not cry. She thought on the things that she remembered, finding those cherished moments that told her she was loved. These were the moments she would try to give her son.

* * *

Oliver found a deserted spot and sat against a wall, his legs pulled into his chest. Then he began to cry in earnest. This was not what he had planned. At one point he heard a noise and looked up to see a handkerchief being held before him. He took it, wiped his eyes and blew his nose, then looked at his benefactor. His eyes became saucers. "Fagin?"

The gnarly old man with the beard grinned back at him with yellow teeth. "Ah, Dodger. You remembers me, my dear."

* * *

The Duke of Cambridge poured a glass of brandy for the shaken Minister of Magic. He had been lured to the Empire by a simple request: If he would come and see what they had to show him, the Empire would then discuss the return of the school. He saw more than he wanted to.

Taking the glass with two hands, Minister Fudge drank it off in one gulp. "I have to ask," he said shakily. "What was the name of the village?"

"It was called Hogsmeade," the Duke said calmly. "And you are now one of a half dozen people who know that particular fact." When Fudge raised an eyebrow, he went on to explain, "No one ever thinks to ask, and these days the answer does not mean very much."

"I was born in Hogsmeade," Crouch said quietly.

The Duke poured another round of drinks. "We will officially turn the school back to you after the tournament is over."

"Of course, of course," Fudge said, as though that was obvious. "Do you really think you can stop Vo- Voldemort?"

"I only know what I have been told. We have taken steps to isolate supporters and potential supporters. Do you know Lord Darcy? He tells me that it is amazing what people will reveal if they think you are completely ignorant. It was very useful having you label us as a backward people. Thank You."

Cornelius Fudge gave him a wry smile. "I should thank you. Once the 'truth' is known, people will think I was a genius, not the bumbling fool I really am."

"Truth for truth, Minister. Our world bumbled quite a few things as well. Entering Lord Somerset in your tournament only to find out someone was trying to 'rig a bet'. And surely you must remember Lord MontClaire. We thought to give him a trifling honour, let him be called a lord."

Fudge actually laughed. "You didn't mean that to happen? That was almost as good as when I made that Captain Grissom teach girls. That blew up in my face." He paused as the Duke adopted a strange expression. "Your Grace?"

"I must apologize. I have known Peter Grissom for decades. For the life of me I can not picture how he would react. How many female students did he have?"

"Two," Fudge acknowledged, and this was too much for the Duke. He laughed for five full minutes before he could stop.

* * *

Lord Bontriomphe glared at his young charge standing in his office. "How did you ever manage to pull this off for so long?"

Lord London stood there, still in his street urchin clothes and bare feet. He knew that his guardian did not want an answer to that question, but he was also too smart for his own good. "Tha' Clerk was a spy a'roight."

Lord Bontriomphe's face became an interesting shade of reddish purple. Lord London understood that he had said the wrong thing. Then Lord Bontriomphe began to pale. "Oh, by God in Heaven Above. Please do not tell me, Darcy, that this boy is also the Dodger."

"I regret to say, Bontriomphe, that he is. At least he was." Lord Darcy, still dressed as Fagin, couldn't help but grin. "And I think he still needs to be."

"I must be losing my touch," Bontriomphe bemoaned. "He calls himself Oliver; He uses the alias of Dodger; He addresses his dispatches as 'Artful' observations. It was all in that book, and I was the one who gave it to him."

"Charles Dickens is a wonderful author," Lord Darcy said. "And quite descriptive. Young Oliver recognized me the instant he saw me."

"Ya was obvious," Lord London said.

"My Lord London," Lord Bontriomphe said without humour. "Do you know what you have done to me? We are at a crucial moment in this war. Your connection with this spy has become more important than you realize. And," he paused when he saw Lord London's grimy smile, "And you already figured this out."

"Fagin 'elped," Lord London said, trying not to smirk.

"He is staying in character," Lord Darcy said before his colleague could react. "And I should as well." His voice took on an oily tone. "Little Oliver is going to introduce me to this man. Aren't you, my dear? Yes. A man we can do business with."

"Is there anything else I should know?" Lord Bontriomphe's voice had a fatalistic tone.

Oliver/London looked at Lord Darcy/ Fagin, and Darcy nodded.

"My Lord Bontriomphe," Lord London said formally. "I was also the one who delivered the letter from Ginevra Weasley."

"And why did you not tell anyone you knew where she was?"

"She dint tell anyone," Lord London said, slipping back into his character. "No' even 'er 'usband."

Lord Bontriomphe began to stare again. Deep inside he wished that he had never been given the task of Guardianship over this child. "How long has she been married?"

"Tha' noight she came 'ere. An it took me two months ta get 'er to wroite tha' letter."

"There is something else you are going to tell me," Lord Bontriomphe said prophetically.

"Two things, actually," Lord Darcy interrupted. "She and her husband, Lieutenant Henry Planck, are the proud parents of a baby boy. Also, they are planning to move to New England and taking young Oliver with them."

Lord Bontriomphe smiled. "That is an excellent solution to our problems."

A/N: First, I thank everyone who has been reading. I think that's the least I can do because now you have to read this Author's Note. And I thank Wytil. I have had thoughts of other genres and original works, but all of that takes time.

To NightRain2, I apologize. It was not my intention in writing this story to have your mother make you read it. On a serious note, my ego is big enough to survive any number of reviews that you wish to post. (Secretly, we live for them.) You mentioned that another author was scared by the suggestion of posting each chapter. Personally, I feel honored when people give multiple reviews. It says to me that I haven't been wasting my time.

And I am not afraid of criticism. I am an amateur. I may hem and haw to defend my work, but I will listen and take things into account (although I won't admit this, as a rule).


	46. The Third Task

A/N: HLB, for expressing continual concern for Molly Weasley's daughter, I dedicate the first section of this chapter to you. It is a small thing, but you made me happy that I wrote it.

Chapter Forty Six: The Third Task

Jenny sighed as she took her place in the line. It was a short line but it was the last one she would have to stand in. This was to confirm her travel plans to New England. Her turn came quickly and the clerk asked for her to wait. Another clerk appeared and asked her to follow him. He was very polite and even asked if she needed help with the baby.

"You could tell me what's wrong."

"There is nothing wrong, Goodwoman Planck. I am given to understand that this is an interview. I was told that you teach reading."

Jenny raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She was led to an office and told to take a seat. The clerk left and another man entered.

"Goodwoman Planck, Permit me to introduce myself. I am Lord Bontriomphe." At Jenny's reaction, he smiled. "It appears you have heard of me, but I am not surprised. After all, I have heard of you." He sighed. "Please do not be frightened or worried, Ginny. I only wanted to talk to you."

"How did you find me? Oliver?"

"The urchin? Not at all, although we know about him. We did it the hard way. We examined every legal record from the time of your disappearance. Your marriage certificate gave you away. Would you like some tea or caffe?"

"No, thank you," Jenny said feeling depressed.

"And now for my question. Do you need anything?"

"What?"

"Do you need anything? Under the circumstances we can not send you home. If I am correct, you would refuse to go. I will therefore make the effort to help you. If there is anything I can do, please tell me."

Jenny thought. "There is something, but not for me. You said you knew about Oliver. He needs a home."

Lord Bontriomphe smiled. "That has already been done. He has a home, although he may not appreciate it. He told me you taught him to read."

Jenny was surprised and suspicious. "You talked to him?"

"I had to. I had to be certain you did not tell him or anyone about your origins."

"I didn't even tell Henry." For some reason tears began to form.

"Ginny?" Lord Bontriomphe asked in concern.

"It's Jenny. J-E-N-N-Y," she said with a sob. "Ginny Weasley doesn't exist anymore."

"I did not mean to hurt you."

"You didn't. It's just that there never was anyone I could talk to before."

Harry chose that moment to wake up. Then he started to cry. Ginny looked at Lord Bontriomphe. "He's hungry."

"Then I will excuse myself. With your permission I will send a woman you can talk to. She also knows all about you."

"Do I know her?"

Lord Bontriomphe smiled. "You do. And she has traveled a long way to be with you. Consider this a going away present." He opened the door. "Goodwoman Weasley, you may enter now."

Ginny controlled herself, unsure of what to expect, when she heard Fred's voice. "What about the rest of us?"

"You will have to wait. Your mother will tell you when you can enter."

Lord Bontriomphe left the room and Molly Weasley entered. Six Weasley men were left waiting in the antechamber as she closed the door behind her.

* * *

"What's going on?" Ron asked.

"The baby stopped crying," George answered. "But I can't hear anything else."

"Boys," Arthur scolded. "Your sister has had a very difficult time. I think she needs to talk to your mother alone for a while." He paused as yelling could be heard outside. "Whatever is that noise."

A man came rushing into the antechamber. "Lord Bontriomphe? Excuse me, Goodmen." He headed for the office door.

"He's not in there," George warned.

"And Mum will give you what for if you open the door," Fred added.

The man looked amused and thanked them for the good council. Then Bill dared to ask about the noise. The man brightened.

"The word came through from Dover. Our Fleet. A stunning victory!" He left to continue his search.

"That must be the war Colin was talking about," Ron said.

"It sounds like they're winning," Arthur replied, trying to sound impressed.

Percy had to say something. "Colin Creevey is in their Navy. He is from Gryffindor, you know. Ron, do you think he was involved in the victory."

Ron paused. He couldn't help but remember Captain Grissom explaining Naval warfare. He remembered other things as well. Robert telling about the ship that blew up, and about how Colin received a commendation for saving a man's life after a shell hit HIS ship. These thoughts and a hundred other details flashed through his mind. "I hope not," he said, and wished fervently it was true.

Arthur tried to keep his smile. "If he was, I'm sure he came through all right." He looked at the door and changed the subject. "Whatever do you think they're doing in there?"

In a movie, the door would have opened at that moment. As it was, they had to wait another twenty minutes.

Molly finally opened the door. "You can come in now and see the baby. But every one of you had better behave."

* * *

Colin woke up and wished he hadn't. The headache from hell still lodged in his head. He grunted, and the healer leaned over and gently stroked his forehead. With each wipe of her hand the pain eased. Finally he could open his eye.

"Thanks, Ma'am. I feel a lot better."

"I am a Sister of Saint Luke," the healer said with mock anger. "But you are welcome. You have a guest."

Admiral Grissom was standing there when Colin turned his head. "Sir," he said as he saluted.

Grissom laughed. "You are in your sickbed, Mister Creevey. You do not need to salute."

"I'm bored lying here. I have to do something." They shared a laugh and Colin felt better. "How did you know I was here?"

"It is one of my duties to review the casualty reports. And I was very upset to find your name on it. Do not let this happen again."

"I promise, Sir. I hate to ask this but . . . Did we win?"

Grissom frowned. "We did. It was a great victory." Vivid memories surfaced of the submersible ships firing their underwater shells. The sight of a half dozen enemy ships sinking before His Majesty's ships even came into range. People would compare it with '39. They would celebrate this day and probably build a statue of him.

Colin noticed his change of mood and knew the reason. He had also seen those ships sink into the water once the Turkic fleet came into sight. "It was a dirty trick we played on them."

"It was war, Mister Creevey. There is no evil in war because war is the evil."

Colin gave a grim smile. "I know. It was them or us, and we were able to make sure it was them." In the silence he asked another question. "Sir, what was it like? My friend Colm said you were there, on the Bristol. It was your first ship."

Peter Grissom expected the question. He always did. And it was finally asked. If it were anyone but Colin he would have shrugged it off.

"I was a full Lieutenant. The Bristol was my first ship as an officer, as you already know. And because I showed up early, I was ranked ahead of the other two new officers. I think you met one of them. Peter de Valera ap Smith."

"The Lord High Admiral?" Colin's voice showed his surprise.

"We were close friends. We still are. But that is beside the point. Or perhaps that is the point." Grissom walked around the bed and sat in the chair so Colin would have an easier time looking at him. "Most of what happened you know about. People died. I saw the pilot's station take a direct hit. I knew the Captain was there. And I knew he was dead. But I kept to my duties until we ran out of shot. I scattered my crew to the other guns to lend a hand and I went to find who was in command. I found the Third Lieutenant. He was being helped from the deck. His right leg was missing and part of his right arm. I asked him who was Captain. He told me he was Captain as ranking officer. He then told me that he was passing the command to me. Then the bastard died."

Grissom took a deep breath. The memories swirled in his head. The noise from the guns were everywhere but growing ever rarer from the Bristol. Only one set of guns were still firing. He heard Colin say something. "I should apologize. I had not thought about it for quite some time." It was an obvious lie. "He died, and left me as the ranking officer. And I was only a Sixth Lieutenant, no more than two months from being a midshipman. Then I heard Val speak. He said clearly and distinctly, 'Your orders, Sir.' I looked at him blankly. He looked back. We stood for a second, eye to eye. 'You are the Captain. You must command. Give me my orders. SIR.'" Grissom held his hand apart. "And that is how I achieved my first command."

"And what happened?"

"I gave all the proper orders, demanded damage reports, ordered anything that was not needed to be thrown overboard, including the bodies. All those little things that you are supposed to do. And everyone listened to me. They followed my orders even as they kept dying." He looked at the boy lying in the bed. "That is why we survived, Colin. Even as things looked grim, we kept to our tasks. We did our duty. And my duty was to tell them what to do. But I only did it because a better man than I ordered me to."

"You're wrong," Colin said. "He's not better than you. He just got lucky."

The Admiral gave a wry laugh. "And how, my little Sub-Lieutenant, was he lucky?"

"Well, Mister Grim Admiral, he was the one who didn't have to take command. All he had to do was keep following the orders."

Surprise filled the man's face. "Colin? I have honestly never thought about it just that way." He clasped the boy's hand warmly. "I will tell you this. If I can, I will make them give you a knighthood. We need to keep you around."

Colin smirked. "Could you get me a Barony? My mum would like that."

The nurse and several patients look over as Grissom fell to the floor, laughing.

* * *

Ron was looking down at the baby he was holding. It kept smiling at him every time he made one of those stupid noises. It made everything seem normal. He looked up. His sister was telling their parents about New England. And his face changed.

"Ron?" Fred asked, as Percy took the chance to finally hold his nephew. He began making the same noises that Ron made, while the twins pulled Ron into the corner.

"Fred, George, I just realized. This is it."

"What is?" the twins asked.

"We're never going to see Ginny again, and we just found her."

"Of course we will," Fred assured him. "As long as we muzzle you, we can come and visit all we want."

"A bit of a drag not having our wands," George noted.

"No, we won't," Ron told them. "Next week's the Third Task. After it's over, they're all going to leave. They're going to destroy the stones."

"How do you know this?" George asked. "Harry or Robert?"

"Hermione. She told me. I confronted Harry about it. He said they had to."

"He said that?" Fred asked. "He said, 'they had to.'?" Ron nodded.

"Then Harry is staying?" George asked. Ron nodded again.

"Then they can't mean it," he assured Ron. "They wouldn't leave Harry behind."

"They have to," Ron told them. Then he told them about the prophecy.

Fred and George looked at each other. They made it a point to go over to Ginny and each gave her a hug.

* * *

Harry was with Robert when Professor Quirrell relayed the report of the battle. Their first question was about Colin. They did not like the news.

"Did you tell his parents?" Robert asked.

Quirrell shook his head. "I am hoping that Father Maurice will accept that task."

"I will," Harry said as he stood up. "I am the reason that Colin is not here. I should be the one to tell them."

"Oh, noble virtue," Professor Quirrell said. "Lord Henry, you are the last person who should give them such news. But you are right about one thing. The person who tells them should be wearing a uniform. If you will excuse me."

The Professor reached into his pocket and quietly faded.

"They are going to hate me."

"Nonsense, Harry. They are going to hate both of us. Because they can not tell us apart."

"That is not funny."

Robert smirked. "You are right, Harry. None of this is funny. But someone has to tell Colin's parents that he is not perfectly fine. And do not expect them to be happy. You entered the war and received an all expense-paid tour of Europe and North Africa. I managed to pick up a nifty scar while doing acrobatics in the middle of combat. What shall we say about Colin?"

"We could tell them . . . " Harry paused in mid thought. "It is this way, brother, they will be told that Colin lost an eye, and it will not matter how they were told."

Both twins looked up when they heard a noise at the door. Dennis Creevey was staring at them.

"Damn," Robert muttered for giving the boy permission to stop by anytime. And Dennis looked ready to run.

"Dennis," Harry said softly, "Should we tell you everything we know?"

The boy nodded and closed the door behind him. As he sat in the chair, Harry couldn't help but think how much alike he and Colin were.

* * *

"He's only a boy," Mrs. Creevey kept saying.

"It is his only injury," Harry found himself saying, not that it would help. He wished he had talked Dennis into waiting. The choice of who would tell had come down to one of them.

"Do you know the details?" Mr. Creevey asked, mostly because he needed to say something.

"Someone should be arriving with the details. I do not know how soon. Please, I want you both to know how sorry I am that this happened. I know these things do happen but it always hurts when it happens to someone you know."

"And you would know," Mrs. Creevey said sarcastically.

"I would," Harry said sadly. "There was Nathan Brenner. We trained together. He was onboard the Victorious when it sank. There was the Nautilus, of course. I was told only one other survived. Then there was . . ." He looked up with moist eyes, and Mrs. Creevey was sharing his sad smile.

"You do know, Harry."

Mister Creevey grabbed his wife's hand. "But Colin"s alive. We should be thankful for that."

Harry was grateful for the chance to leave. He now had his own demons to fight.

* * *

Robert chose to find Hermione while his brother was facing his onerous task. Hermione was always able to find a way to make everything better. He turned a corner and found himself face to face with Alistor Moody.

"Ah, Lord Somerset, just the man I'm looking for. I need to ask you a few questions. About the tournament."

"I will answer what I can, Professor."

"I know we both have our agendas. My job right now is to keep that brother of yours alive until this contest is over. I was curious of exactly what your orders are."

"I will admit, Sir, that our duties are the same."

"And after the contest?" Moody smiled when Robert did not answer. "I thought so. I've noticed all those people returning to the school and going back to your world. Are you taking your brother with you?"

Robert shook his head.

"I'm glad. He's more useful to us. My Lord, don't expect me to be sympathetic. You have your world and I have mine. We need Harry Potter in this world. You might remember that Voldemort is still out there."

Robert nodded. "I do understand, Sir. Nor do I regret that he has to stay here except that I can not do the same."

Moody nodded but his smile didn't fade. "Just remember. Constant Vigilance. Neither of us has finished our jobs yet, and I don't want it to end badly."

"Nor do I, Professor," Robert replied. He bowed lightly and proceeded on his way.

* * *

Harry sat at the table drinking his butterbeer. Susan sat with him as he looked around the Three Broomsticks. "This is a nice place."

"I'm glad they finally let you come, Harry. Most of the times that Ron and I came here we usually talked about you. And now we can finally talk to you. Except that Ron's not here."

"You should have gone with him."

"He asked me, but it's family."

"You should still have gone."

They both looked up as someone called his name.

"Harry Potter! I've not seen ye since the Hermes. Be this yer lass?"

Harry stared at the strangely dressed boy his age. "Jamie?" The boy grinned, and Harry's jaw dropped. "Susan, this is Jamie Tarr. We trained together."

"Anether round of drinks, Lassie," Jamie called out, "and I'd no mind somethin' stronger than tha' beer ye serve."

Harry and Jamie sat down and stared at each other, surprised to meet in this way. Harry had to ask. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm on leave," Jamie said. "Tha' Lord Darcy owed me a favour."

Harry was surprised. "You know my uncle."

"Aye, an' a smart man he is. Him an' tha' sorcerer of his."

Harry gave Jamie a confused look. "Where did you meet Lord Darcy?"

"Righ' here," Jamie said with a grin. "In our world, o' course."

Harry stared, and Susan had to ask. "You met Lord Darcy in The Three Broomsticks."

"Aye. In me own world, me da owns it."

Susan's jaw dropped. "Your father owns the place?"

Jamie nodded. "I's no this big, mind ye, but it's th' same name and same spot."

"And you knew about Harry."

"That I did, but I didna ken it was Harry til after our trip."

The three of them talked through the afternoon. It was mostly stories of family but it finally centered on what each had been doing. Jamie gave the smile of a conspirator. "Ye should know, Harry. I was sent ta the Firth of Forth, just two days aft' ye sailed. Am the one who figured out why yer ship blew up."

Harry listened eagerly, while Susan tried to hide her surprise. She had just found out what type of ship Harry was on.

"Ye see, Harry. Ye loaded the shell into th' tube, an' sealed it shut."

"I know that."

"Then ye opened the front port ta flood th' tube."

"I know that, too."

"An' all tha' fine sea water rushed in as fast as it could."

Harry slapped his forehead. "Of course. The shells were designed to explode on impact. The incoming water must have hit them with enough force."

"Aye, it did," Jamie Tarr said happily. "An' fer tha' little feat, they gave me this trip."

"They should have made you an officer," Susan said. "Like Harry."

"They did tha' too," Jamie said. "Am the only sailor with an army sword."

* * *

"I wish you could meet him," Jenny told her father. "He reminds me of you. He talks to me the way you talk to Mum."

"I'm sure he's a fine man." Arthur smiled at his daughter and wished he could turn back the clock. The child was gone, and a woman had taken her place. He heard the tolling of the hour. "Honey, it's time. Promise me that you will live a full life."

"I promise."

* * *

Three days later, Lord Darcy found himself in Dumbledore's office.

"You were correct. Our faux Defense Professor did not use the imperious curse on Lord Somerset. When I questioned My Lord, he informed me that it was a matter of comparing notes. This man was very happy to hear that Lord Henry would be staying behind."

Dumbledore nodded. "I should ask if Barty Crouch is comfortable."

Lord Darcy snorted. "The man has destroyed his career and sits in his rooms waiting to die. His only happiness is that none of his friends know of his treason, yet. I have not told him our plans for his son." He paused. "We could confront the son and end this charade. I do not need to remind you that the end results of our plan are only conjecture."

"Your conjecture, My Lord, and that carries a great deal of weight. Or did they lie to me when they told me that you determined what happened to Lord Somerset within a month of his disappearance, and within a week of when you first started your investigation "

Darcy smiled appreciatively. "I thank you, Professor, for your generous words but I must disagree. What you have mentioned involved the simple connection of facts. What we are planning involves conjecture of the 'probable' results based upon a scientific theory. While Master Sean has shown us that what he and Professor Flitwick are proposing can in fact be done, it is something that has never before been tried in the field."

"Perhaps you are right." Dumbledore's eyes had a twinkle in them. "This is too great a risk, and the risk is not to either one of us. On the other hand, we could ask Lord Henry to decide?"

"We both know he would agree, even if he understood the risks. And he does know that the time will come when he must confront Voldemort." Lord Darcy smiled. "But he might also tell his friends and we can not risk that. Lord Henry has never been able to keep a secret unless he felt that someone ELSE would be hurt by its revelation."

"Then the choice is mine after all, My Lord. Let us proceed with this plan and hope nothing goes wrong."

* * *

Hermione kissed Robert for luck, then watched as he left the Great Hall to join the other champions. She turned to face her two guests, Lord MontClaire and The O'Connell. She deliberately ignored their ranks, as she had all through dinner.

"Ernie, do you want to sit with me and Owen or with the Hufflepuffs?"

Ernie grinned, remembering The O'Connell's initial reaction. Owen was a name the Irishman had not heard in over a year. He then looked over to the Gryffindor table. "I will choose Hufflepuff. You will find me with Susan and Ron."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "They told me they would be sitting with Gryffindor." With a shrug of her shoulders, she led the way. "Owen, are you and Ernie here for moral support?"

"Quite the opposite, Hermione. We are here as part of the escort for when the two of you return."

Hermione's smile faded at the reminder that Harry wasn't coming with them. Owen had his arm around her at once.

"He did agree to this. He knew that this was one of the possible endings. All of us can wish for a different ending but it would make no difference."

"Harry is still my friend."

"Then why will you not stay with him?" Owen did not let her answer. "This is not a perfect world, nor is my world a paradise. Reality is the hardness that wrecks our dreams. We must live with it. But we still can dream."

"It still hurts," Hermione admitted.

"Perhaps we should spend the time making good memories to take home with us."

Owen and Hermione smiled, then frowned when Ernie laughed. "You know he fancies you."

"I know," Hermione said. "Robert told me."

Owen smiled at her. "But he never told me. How is it he won your heart?"

"He almost died." The smile was gone again. "Owen, it's no fun talking to you. You always remind me of the worst things in my life."

They took their seats, and looked out in the darkness. Above the Quidditch field they could see a projection. An outline of the maze. At the entrance were five dots, each a different color. A white dot marked the trophy that Professor Moody had put in place earlier today. One by one, the names of the Champions were called and the dots began to move as each entered the maze. The last Champion to enter was Robert, Lord Somerset.

* * *

His name was called, and Robert entered the maze. His first task was to find Harry. Pulling out his wand, he cast the directional charm Master Sean had taught him, which pointed slightly to the left. He headed down the left-hand path in a run until he came to a splitting of the ways. After another directional charm he chose the right path. It ended twenty feet and two turns later. He went back and took the other path.

That was when he heard the scream. It was the girl, Fleur Delacour. But she was not Robert's concern. Harry was. He did the pointing spell again and it gave Harry's position. The same direction as the scream, or near enough. His brother was going to investigate, and now it was his duty to help. Except that he was in a dead end in the maze.

"INCENDIO," Robert called out, and burned a hole through the hedge. He followed this with a freezing spell to put out the flames, and stepped through to find another hedge wall. Undeterred, he repeated the process. This time he was at the beginning of a new path. Running quickly he heard yelling in the distance, and increased his pace. Suddenly he ran into a glowing mist, and the world went askew. Up became down and he felt as though he was falling into the sky. His momentum carried him through the mist and Robert went sprawling into the hedge. He mentally thanked Harry for the contact lenses. He would surely have lost his glasses.

"That was clever," Harry said as he looked down. "Can you move? Cedric is in trouble."

"I am fine," Robert said as he picked himself up. He had the sudden fear that something might happen to Cedric because Harry stopped to check on him. He followed his brother through the hole in the hedge that Harry had made. (Great minds think alike.) On the other side of the hedge was an open area and a sight neither twin would have expected: Viktor Krum was pointing his wand at Cedric Diggory who was writhing in pain.

Harry began to draw his wand but Robert stopped him. "Never Attack With Magic," he reminded his brother. Drawing his sword instead, Robert raced for the Dumstrang Champion. As expected, Krum broke off his attack to hurl the curse at his attacker. As he did, Robert made the gesture with his hand.

Robert paused to sheath his sword. Viktor Krum would harm no one until the spell was cancelled. He then ran to Cedric. Harry was already by his side.

"How is he?" Robert asked.

"Bad," Harry said, as he raised his wand. "I think that last spasm broke the bone in his leg."

"Leave me be," Cedric told Harry. "I can handle myself. You two get going."

"It is my fault," Robert told a panting Cedric. "He heard you yell, but then he stopped for me when I fell."

Cedric grinned then grimaced in pain. "If it's your fault, then you have to take my place. Win it for Hufflepuff." He raised his wand and waved them away.

As he stood up, Robert tried to smile. "I can not, Cedric. I am not playing to win."

"I will do it," Harry said. "At least now I know whom I represent."

As the twins turned to go, Cedric called out the spell to send the red flare. As far as they knew, it was only the two of them. They discussed this as they kept walking

"Harry, have you run into many traps?"

"Only the one where I found you, and one of those Blast-Ended Screwts that Hagrid raised."

"I did cheat, but that was the only trap I have seen. I think someone is making your pace exceptionally easy."

"Moody?" Harry asked, and received a nod. "But why?"

Robert shrugged. "We talked earlier in the week. He wants you to finish the task alive. Neither he nor I care if it is called cheating." He grinned at his brother. "Shall we head for the trophy?" He held up his wand. "I do believe it is this way."

"You are wrong," a third voice said. Both boys turned to see a monstrous creature: a Sphinx. "But if you answer my riddle then you have a clear path to your goal." She looked at them. "Which of you wants to go first?"

"We will guess together," Harry replied.

"We are a team," Robert explained.

"But you each have to answer a riddle."

"Then we will answer two riddles," Robert suggested.

"It would only be fair," Harry pointed out.

"This is not the way it's supposed to be. You're supposed to come one at a time."

Robert grinned and looked at Harry. Together, they said, "You only have one riddle."

The Sphinx looked miffed. "I would only need one riddle if you would play according to the rules."

"It does not matter," Robert said, reflecting her anger. "Harry is the only Champion left."

The Sphinx gave him a disbelieving smile. "Then who are you?"

"His bodyguard. Just in case."

The Sphinx nodded thoughtfully. "We'll make it easy then. Follow me. If there's any trouble I'll take care of it."

"Um, Thank you," Harry said in surprise. "But why are you helping us?"

The Sphinx paused. "I'm not. You're the only contestant left, but the contest isn't over until you take the trophy."

Harry and Robert followed the Sphinx and found themselves facing the trophy cup.

"Go ahead, Harry." Robert was grinning ear to ear.

"Robert." Harry had a look on his face. "I have had an idea. We could both win. We could share the Championship. And you would be fulfilling Cedric's request."

"Harry, this is not my contest. This is your contest. I only want to make sure nothing happens to you before . . . before I leave."

"That is why. This is the last thing we will ever do together. Then you will be gone, and I will be alone again. Except this time I will know that I am alone."

Robert wiped his eye, then tried to look as though he had never done it. He understood what his brother was feeling. If he took the cup he would win, and Robert would bow politely and disappear from his life forever, But if they took the cup together, then there would be one final gathering, one last celebration. They would have their last hurrah.

"I would like that, brother mine. To do this, together."

"If anyone asks," The Sphinx said, "the answer was 'a spider'."

Both twins walked up to the trophy and counted, "One; Two; Three." At Three, they each grabbed a handle of the cup. Then the ground was pulled away from them as each boy felt like his stomach was being twisted inside out. When the world righted itself, the two found themselves standing in a cemetery, surrounded by darkly robed figures. A vaguely familiar voice spoke.

"Kill the spare."


	47. Aftermath

Chapter Forty Seven: Aftermath

Hermione was on her feet as soon as she saw the two dots disappear from the projection. Owen sensed her mood and immediately jumped before her, shouting, "Make way. Make Way For The Lady." Somehow it worked and the two were soon free of the crowd, running to find Dumbledore.

They arrived in the clearing to find the headmaster in a deep discussion with Professor Flitwick and Master Sean O'Lochlainn. Armsmen and wizards were searching the surrounding area. Lord Darcy and Captain Sheffield could be heard shouting orders. Hermione hesitated to interrupt, but Owen had no such qualms.

"Professors, Master Sorcerer, I must demand information."

Dumbledore turned his head without a smile. "Then I will inform you. You and Miss Granger need to stay out of the way."

Owen bowed politely and backed away. He took Hermione's hand and led her to one side. "They are working on something. They seem surprised."

"Surprised?" Hermione said with disbelief. "Owen, do you have any sense of proportion. My future husband and my best friend both disappeared."

Suddenly, there was a loud popping noise, and Hermione looked up. By chance of fate she had a clear view. Harry had come back and he was obviously injured. Robert was with him and he looked unhurt, except that he wasn't moving.

Her voice was barely a whisper as she said his name. She began to run but someone grabbed her. It was Owen.

"Hermione. You will get in the way. They will take care of him."

Hermione saw blurs as the tears began to fill her eyes but she could still make out the figure standing over Robert. The dire pronouncement made by the shaking of his head. She began screaming and could not stop, until Madam Pomfrey cast a sleeping spell on her. The entire time Owen cradled her in his arms. Thus he was a witness to everything that happened.

* * *

Everyone paused until Hermione's screams stopped. Then the world went back to normal speed. Professor Moody entered the clearing and began walking purposely toward the twin boys. Almost everyone was so intent on the scene that he was only ten feet away when he was stopped.

"Professor Moody," Lord Darcy said politely. "Could I talk to you privately for a minute?"

"That's no problem. Let me just tell Dumbledore what I've found out."

Lord Darcy grabbed Moody's arm to keep him from moving.

"I am sure he is already aware."

Lord Darcy said nothing else but Moody saw the Armsmen approaching. He knew at once that he had been discovered.

"I'll trust you then, Darcy." Moody turned as though to follow where Darcy would lead but his wand was out and it was pointing directly at Harry. He had time enough to shout, "Avada Kedavra," before Darcy could stop him.

Harry looked up at the shout and saw the green light flaring from the tip of the wand. As the curse burst force it engulfed the Armsman who had deliberately jumped in front of Harry. The Armsman fell dead.

Owen could not see Harry anymore as Armsmen rushed at Moody to subdue him. He surprised Lord Darcy with his strength by physically forcing him away. He attempted to use his wand once more but a sword came down and severed the hand. The man with the sword then struck Moody in the side of the head. He collapsed from the blow and fell to the ground. The conflict was over.

* * *

Hermione came to find Harry. She still felt hollow inside, but life kept insisting that it be lived. She was looking for the one person who could understand how she felt. She dared to visit the room where they had placed the bodies, and he was there.

Owen told her he would wait outside. Hermione smiled gratefully. The Irish lord had insisted on staying with her until she was completely recovered. It was his debt to Robert. Hermione closed the door behind her and walked toward Harry, looking only at him.

"How are you?"

Harry looked up and smiled. "You know that answer. I should ask how you are."

"I'll survive. I don't know how, but I will. Owen is helping."

She walked over to him, afraid to look at either body. "Is that Robert?"

"He is on the bier behind me. This is the Armsman who saved my life, but you had passed out by then."

Hermione looked down at the worn face of a young man, perhaps eighteen. "Did you know him?"

Harry nodded. "Remember that Christmas? I woke that boy sleeping in the alleyway. This is his brother. He died with honour."

"What was his name?" For some reason this seemed an important question.

"William Potter. He chose that name to remind himself that he had been given a place."

"He chose your name? How did he know what it was?"

"He did not know. It was only cruel coincidence. Yesterday he was dreaming of a future. Today he is someone from the past. And someone will have to tell his brother. Someone will have to tell my brother."

Hermione took a breath. Harry was talking about Lord London. Her pain lessened and increased at the same time. Someone had been more hurt than either she or Harry, but he did not know it yet. She turned her back on Harry and looked at the other bier. Robert lay there, unmoving. He would never move again.

"Harry? Hermione?" Professor Dumbledore was standing in the doorway. "I wish I could give you more time, but we need to talk. Under the circumstances, this can't wait."

Harry looked up. "That will not be a problem. They will not be going anywhere."

Hermione started at the harsh remark, but held her tongue. She had wanted to say something like that, herself. Both of them followed the headmaster without saying another word. Owen quietly walked behind them as they left the room

They entered Dumbledore's office to find several people waiting there. That the Minister of Magic was one of them was a surprise. Lord Darcy was also there, with Master Sean. Professor Flitwick and Sirius Black rounded out the group.

Hermione and Owen sat in the background. It was obvious that she was here only because of her relationship to Robert. It was clear that they felt she had the right to know everything. It was Harry they talked to. And the first thing he did was describe in detail the events that occurred between the time of his disappearance and the time of his return. Hermione kept her head down while he described what happened, beginning with the casualness of Robert's murder. She looked up at one point, when Harry was relating how the ghosts came out of Voldemort's wand. He related Robert's last words.

"It is all up to you, brother. Give Hermione my love."

It was simple and brief. But it did not make her feel any better. She grabbed Owen's hand for support, once again thankful he was there.

Once Harry had finished, Professor Flitwick and Master Sean excused themselves. They went into the room where, two years before, Harry and Robert had gone with their Godmother. Cornelius Fudge also excused himself, saying he would be back shortly. He left with the notes he had taken during Harry's discourse.

"Harry," Dumbledore said softly, "I know you are angry with yourself, but it was not your fault that Robert died. To be honest, that blame should fall on me. I knew what was going to happen and I deliberately did nothing to stop it."

"You KNEW?" Harry's anger showed. "You knew the trophy was a portkey?"

"Yes. And to make matters worse, I knew it would take you to Voldemort."

"But . . . Why? I trusted you."

"Then trust him a little longer, Harry." It was Sirius Black. "He had a good reason, or so we thought. All of us thought it was an excellent plan."

Harry bit back his next words, and nodded his head.

"It did have one terrible flaw," Dumbledore admitted. "We failed to account for how much you and your brother loved each other. We should have realized the possibility of what did happen. Let me explain what we were going to do.

"Professor Flitwick and Master O'Lochlainn had developed an interesting theory. I will not go into detail but the result was this. If we had two identical objects which were linked, and we apparated with one of them to another place, a special portkey would link one place to the other. We tested this and it did work, and we decided the risk was worth it. A portkey was charmed to link you, Harry, with your brother. Once you touched the portkey that was the trophy, the charmed portkey that we had made would automatically take anyone who was touching it to wherever you were, once your brother touched it. Do you understand?"

Harry was shocked. "If Robert had not come with me, you could have followed me?"

"Yes, Harry. We even made the portkey from a roll of ribbon. Once your brother touched it, it would have taken at least three dozen people to you. Our intent was to subdue Voldemort before he could restore himself. It would have made fulfilling the prophecy a lot easier."

"Then it is my fault," Harry cried. "I talked him into joining me."

Lord Darcy waved a hand brusquely. "If we are to play the blaming game, nephew, then blame me. I was the one to propose the idea once Master Sean gave me his assurance. And I also counseled that neither you nor your brother should be told about this. There was a real risk that Voldemort's spy might use a truth serum or spell on either of you. Then again, perhaps we should rightfully blame the murderer."

"Harry, you could blame me," Sirius Black offered. "I was the one who suggested Pettigrew become your parent's secret keeper. That's what started all of this. Robert's death is only the most recent tragedy. But no one here wants to tell you the good things that happened. It might make the really bad things seem less than they are. And Fudge is one of them."

"The Minister?"

"Yes, Harry. The Minister. He was so fixated on those stones that he ignored all those warnings about Voldemort's return. But something changed his mind. Those names you gave us. He left to send word that every one of those people should be arrested. Voldemort will lose most of his hard core of followers. And we already had a few other names. We captured Voldemort's spy. He was using Polyjuice Potion to disguise himself as Alastor Moody. Dumbledore gave him Veritaserum and he sang like a bird."

Sirius Black leaned forward to continue his lecture. He had his Godson's full attention. "Think about how many people will not have to die because of what happened today. I'm sorry about Robert. But I'm also sorry about James and Lily. But if that's the price I have to pay to make sure that no one else has to die, I'd pay it with my own blood."

Harry gave a wry smile. "Captain Grissom said something like that to me once. Sometimes we have to choose how we will be damned by God. Robert's death was the fault of not knowing the future." He paused, and a tear fell down his cheek. "How will I tell Roger?"

"Do not worry," Lord Darcy said. "That fell task belongs to me."

Minister Fudge returned with a half smile. "I should tell you. Every auror we could spare is helping to round up those criminals. Hopefully, few if any will escape our clutches. Thank you, Harry, I'm sorry, Lord Henry, for telling us everything."

"It is Harry, Minister. I will be staying."

Lord Darcy gave a thin smile. "That was something else we had to withhold from you, My Lord. His Majesty's instruction were explicit. No one from our world is to be left behind. And by royal writ, that includes you. It was another necessary distraction."

"Then what happens now?" Harry was not sure where this discussion was going.

"That, nephew, is for Master Sean to decide."

* * *

It was late the next afternoon that Master Sean and Professor Flitwick called everyone together. Almost every teacher was there, as well as most of the people from the Empire. Only Lord Darcy was missing. He had left that morning to escort the bodies back to His Majesty's London.

"First of all," Professor Flitwick said to the crowded room as he stood on top of the desk. "I have to explain that this is possible because of the blood ritual that Voldemort used to restore himself. Because he now has some of Harry's blood inside of him, it is possible to alter the portkey to adjust for the new circumstances. We also have the advantage of Harry's curse scar, which in turn has given Harry some of Voldemort's power."

Dumbledore was smiling. "Then we can still use the portkey as we originally planned?"

"Yes, Yes," Flitwick said gleefully. "And it is now tuned to Voldemort himself."

A tired Master Sean produced the long ribbon from his pocket. "We spent most of yesterday determining how to alter the spell, and the rest of the time to actually do it. Lord Henry, all you need do is touch this ribbon and it will transport you directly to the Dark Lord. Would you care to face the demon again, on your terms?"

Harry pulled out his wand. "I would be happy to."

Father Maurice Pannier stood up from his seat off to one side. "Under the circumstances, I must forbid this. I do so in the name of the Church."

Master Sean nodded and picked up the charmed ribbon, putting it into his sorcerers bag. Harry stared in amazement as Dumbledore clapped his hands together and said, "I thank you, anyway, Master Sean. It was a nice idea."

"NO," Harry yelled as he stood up and turned on Father Maurice. "You have no right to do this!"

"I HAVE EVERY RIGHT," Father Maurice shouted. He took a deep breath and said calmly but forcefully, "I must forbid the use of magic in an assault on anyone, even for the best possible reason. To do so is to deliberately use Black Magic. And I do believe that is what Professor Dumbledore intended. Armed Wizards and Witches shouting spells to subdue the miscreants. The Church forbids anyone from the Empire to participate in such an action. And under the circumstances, this school is part of the Empire."

Harry's anger could not let him think properly. "My brother is dead and you tell me that I can do nothing. How dare you?" Still angry, he began to raise his arm.

"There is another way," Master Sean said almost too softly. "It will be dangerous, but it will not violate Church doctrine."

Harry froze, his wand half raised in the direction of the priest.

"And what way is that?" Father Maurice asked calmly.

"Thirteen Master Sorcerers confront him in the Ritual of Dissolution."

"You would do this?" Dumbledore asked. "You would risk your own people?"

Master Sean nodded. "It will fulfill our agreement."

Dumbledore turned to Father Maurice. He first stepped up to Harry and put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Put it away," he said softly, then stepped in front of him, as though protecting him. "Father Maurice, will you agree to Master Sean's suggestion?"

"I am inclined to agree, Professor. I know that Master Sean is correct in what he has said. But before any such task is carried out, I insist that I hear the confessions of all who are involved." He looked past Dumbledore, directly at Harry.

Master Sean looked to Professor Quirrell, who nodded and stood up. A few seconds later, they both had disappeared. Father Maurice walked up to Harry and said, quite distinctly, "We need to talk. Will you come with me or will I have to grab you by the ear and drag you?"

Not long afterward, Harry and Father Maurice sat in his office glowering at each other, but Father Maurice was not willing to tolerate such an attitude.

"You stood there with your wand in hand jumping at the chance to use it against someone."

"That someone killed my brother."

"That someone also killed your parents. And who did I kill."

"What are you talking about?"

"Before Master Sean spoke, you were raising your wand against me. Or did you merely want to wave hello and you forgot it was there."

"I - I was angry."

"As you are now. But anger is not the reason you should act. I thought by now you would have learned to think things though."

Harry felt a tinge of embarrassment. "I hate him. I hate him for everything he has done, and I want to kill him. Nothing will change that."

Father Maurice sighed. "You are young. I will not expect you to feel pity instead of hate. But I will not permit any action unless you let go of your anger. Anger must not be your driving force. Can you do that?"

"How do I do that?" Harry asked sarcastically.

"How did you do it the last time?"

It was one of those moments when everything seems to stop. For Harry the world around froze in place as the memory opened up. He was in the Chamber of Secrets. Robert was dying and he had understood what Tom Riddle was. What he did then was not done in anger but in determination. He destroyed Tom Riddle because it was necessary. And, because of the prophecy, he would destroy Lord Voldemort. That, too, was necessary.

"I did it because I had to," Harry said softly. He added in understanding, "And this is something else that I have to do. My feelings do not matter."

"My Lord Henry, I do believe you, and I absolve you in the name of God of all your sins made in anger. But it is my task now to set you a penance that is appropriate. Under the circumstances, I would suggest that you permanently foreswear the performance of magic?"

Harry started to object, then had to laugh. If Master Sean's plan was successful, he would be going home, and he could not perform magic there anyway. He smiled at the priest, then frowned as he realized what he had done.

"Lord Henry, you are permitted to smile. Tragedy does not forbid you from all happiness. Rather happiness is our way of surviving tragedy. Life will insist on being lived."

* * *

The ribbon was stretched out to its full length. Fourteen Sorcerers held onto it from one side. Captain Sheffield and fourteen Armsmen held onto it from the other side. All of them waited for Harry to put his hand on it.

Harry put his hand out, then paused. "Excuse me." He pulled his wand out of his jacket pocket. "Professor Dumbledore, I will not be needing this. If you will be my witness." Harry took the wand in both hands and snapped it across his knee. He then handed both pieces to Dumbledore and turned back to the waiting men. Master Sean was beaming at him. Harry grabbed the end of the ribbon and gasped as the portkey forced his stomach into the small of his back.

The world came back into focus and they were all standing in a large room in a rundown mansion. Peter Pettigrew's voice could instantly be heard shouting, "I Surrender. I Surrender."

"Fool," Voldemort shouted and immediately raised his wand. His snake, Nagani, had already struck one of the Armsmen, but the man's sword and those of at least three comrades at arms were tearing the life from the large reptile. Voldemort immediately apparated to a familiar cemetery and laughed at the effort to trap him.

The wounded Armsman and his three companions had let go of the ribbon to defend themselves. They would stay behind to retain the frightened man known as Wormtail. The portkey activated itself again and everyone appeared at the cemetery moments behind Voldemort. Two Armsmen rushed him and struck a blow before he could apparate again. Voldemort raised his wand to attack his assaulters but one of the sorcerers was there to make himself a target. As Voldemort cast his spell the sorcerer made a quick but complicated gesture with his hand.

* * *

Voldemort awoke in a strange room. It was completely round with only one door and no windows. He found himself on a dias in the middle of the room with his hands and feet bound in chains. Looking up, he saw the thirteen Sorcerers standing evenly spaced in a circle around him. Then the one directly in front of him raised an iron wand and began to chant in Latin.

"I know those words," Voldemort laughed. "They are meaningless without power behind them." Two more Sorcerers took up the chant as they lit rune-covered braziers of incense. "I still have the power to defeat you all, even without my wand."

As the other Sorcerers joined in the chant, Voldemort concentrated on a spell, but there was an ensorcelment on the chains that bound him. He turned his concentration to the manacle on his right arm. In only five minutes, it opened and fell to the floor. He turned to the left arm as the smell of incense and ritual powders filled the air. It took a little longer, but it too fell away. It took a full fifteen minutes for the right leg to be freed, and the same for the left leg.

Voldemort laughed as he stood on the dias, the now impotent chains lying on the floor around him. He raised his hand to cast a spell and . . . he faltered. He could feel it. Despite his disbelief, his ability to perform magic was leaving him. He could feel the emptiness that was left behind as he collapsed onto the dias. He still lay there as the Sorcerers suddenly fell into silence after they shouted "Finis", watching helplessly as they walked out of the room in a single file.

As Voldemort dragged himself into a sitting position, too tired to do anything else, he heard someone enter. A fourteen-year-old boy, almost fifteen, dressed in a naval uniform, complete with sword.

"We meet again, Harry Potter," Voldemort said with a snickering laugh. "Your sorcerer friends did their little trick and made me helpless before you. Now you can pull out your little wand and kill me."

"I foreswore the use of magic." Harry's hand rested meaningfully on his sword.

Voldemort managed to laugh. "Oh, how droll. You will actually use a muggle weapon to kill me. Then have at me, boy. Garner all of your hate for everyone I killed. Your brother, your parents, their friends. I haven't had time to kill any of your friends yet. Go ahead, Harry. Let out your anger in the death blow. Or will you hack me to pieces for the sheer joy of it. You could even poke me and prod me. Yes, that's it. Make me suffer for all the times I made you suffer."

Harry looked down at Voldemort's smirking face, and he felt it. Pity. This was an old man who had lost everything and did not even understand what he had lost.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle, by order of His Serene Majesty, John Plantagenet, Fourth of that Name, you have been condemned to death for the wanton murder of one of His Majesty's subjects, Lord Robert de Somerset, Heir to the House of Cambridge. By order of His Majesty, this sentence is to be carried out with all expediency. It is my duty to execute this order."

Harry drew his sword, a sword that Voldemort recognized. It had once belonged to Godric Gryffindor.

The old man smiled. "Harry, do I get the chance to appeal this decision." He never received an answer

With expert skill from long practice, Lieutenant Lord Henry Somerset thrust the blade directly into the heart of the condemned man, killing him instantly. He pulled out the blade and wiped it with a cloth he had brought for that purpose. He threw the cloth on the floor next to the corpse and sheathed his sword. Having fulfilled his commission, he left the room.


	48. Epilogue: Part One

A/N: For all practical purposes, the story is over. I have posted four chapters today. The epilogue was too long, in my opinion, to fit comfortably into one chapter. That is why there is Part One and Part Two.

The last two chapters are from the original version of this story. I added them for those who are curious.

As this is the last time I have a chance to comment, I would like to answer TimI's question about how Henry Planck lost two fingers on his hand. It was during a storm. Something came loose and smashed into the side of the deck where Henry's hand was. Whatever it was, and his two smallest fingers, washed away in the next wave.

I should remind Wytil that electricity and magic do not go well together, and the Empire is too committed to the use of magic. They would not introduce electricity into their society, although now that they know its properties you can expect a group of scientists at RTI to search for a way around that problem.

As a final note, I want to thank everyone, reviewers and readers, for spending your summer following this story. Good Reading - HiBob

Epilogue: Part One

The day had finally come. Goodwoman Jenny Planck had taken the train to Dover and was waiting to board the ship that would take her to a new life. She sat in the shade the lone tree with a five-month-old baby looked about in uncomprehending wonder. Naval officers and men, some of them only boys even younger than her, walked past on their own business, officially ignoring her despite the many unofficial smiles.

"Ginny?" It was a familiar voice that seemed to be laughing at her. She looked up to see Colin Creevey standing there.

"I see you've decided to try piracy instead."

Colin grinned at the reference to his eye patch. He looked around and then joined her under the tree. "What are you doing here?" He stared at the baby. The baby stared back and reached for his nose.

"Harry, this is Colin. Colin, this is my son, Harry Arthur Planck."

"You're married."

"To a Navy man. He's a Lieutenant on the Adventurer."

Colin nodded in admiration. "It's a good ship. They were the ones who first spotted the enemy fleet."

Jenny smirked. "I know. I was there. That's how I met my husband." Her eyes moved to little Harry. "That's when I became Jenny." There was a wistfulness in her voice. "Henry and I bought into an emigration deal. I'm supposed to sail today to Port Adelaide."

Colin smiled. "Do you know which ship?"

"I'm waiting for a message from the Post Admiral. Henry's Captain called in a favor. I'm supposed to sail on one of the Navy ships. It will save us the cost of travel, at least." Jenny sighed at thought of how long it would take to pay off the debt.

"Like you need to worry about money," Colin smirked.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you know? The Adventurer is the talk of the Sea Lanes. They pick up a foreign merchantman at least once a week, sometimes more."

"Henry wrote me that they took some ships, but what does that have to do with money?"

"Remember what Grissom told us about taking prizes?"

Ginny gasped, which startled Harry, who decided to laugh instead of cry. "That means . . ."

"Probably less than you're thinking."

"I wish I could tell Mum and Dad. Colin, is that still possible?"

Colin shook his head. "The stones were destroyed over a month ago. Shortly after they killed Voldemort." His eye held a sad look. "This is the only world we have."

"I'm sorry, Colin."

"For what?"

"Your parents. Your brother."

"Don't be. They're at the beach right now, no more than ten miles from here, trying to decide what to do."

"They're here?"

"I make more than dad. So HE quit his job." They both laughed.

"Colin, if you see Harry, tell him I'm sorry. About Robert. I heard the official story, but that still means . . ."

"That's all I know, too. Harry won't talk about it. Neither will Hermione."

Jenny smiled. "She came. I wish I had known. When does she start school?"

"Apprentice Sorcerers have school all year long. She's already started. I heard she loves it. She has to spend all of her time studying. Harry said she hardly has time for anything else. Wait a minute." Colin called out to a passing boy. "RUNNER."

"Aye, Lieutenant," the boy said as he saluted.

"Give Captain Marshall my compliments and inform him that I request transport for a friend and her son. Note to the Captain that her husband is a Lieutenant on board the Adventurer."

"The Adventurer?" the boy smiled. "He serves under Sly Captain Slye?"

Colin smirked. "Joshua, run with the message or the Port Admiral will put her on someone else's ship."

"Not on my watch," the boy said, and ran off.

Jenny laughed at the ease with which Colin did that. "Which ship is yours?" She had to ask.

"Oh, that big grey one. The Birmingham. I'm only Fourth Lieutenant."

Jenny smirked. "Henry is Second Lieutenant on his ship."

Colin smirked in return. "There are only two Lieutenants on Henry's ship."

"Colin, thank you for being here. And thank Lord Bontriomphe for telling you to look for me."

"I already did." They sat back and looked toward the ships. "Did you know, when Dennis was introduced to the Marquis of London, his first question was 'Why are so many people in your world named Lord?' The Marquis told him it was a very popular name."

"Are you serious?"

"I am, but I'm not sure Dennis was."

"Oy, Jenny," a voice came from behind them.

"Oliver?" Jenny brightened, as she turned. "You decided to come, after all."

"Whot? Are you crazy? It wount be roight ta leave London." Oliver smiled smugly. "Oi got ya this, for the trip."

He handed her a book. "Histories of the people of New England. It sounds wonderful. Thank you."

Colin politely kept quiet at the strange reunion. How Lord London came to be here dressed as a mudlark, and why Ginny/Jenny knew him as a Charles Dickens character was never fully explained to him. Despite that, he knew to keep his mouth shut. He had become very good at keeping secrets.

'Oliver' stayed for almost an hour, impressing Jenny by reading from the book. When the runner appeared, calling them to the ship, Oliver reached over and kissed baby Harry goodbye. He also whispered so that only the baby could hear. "Goodbye, dear Harry. How I regret I will never see you grow up."

He and Jenny hugged, and Oliver ran off quickly so that no one would see the tears in his eyes.

"An unusual boy," Colin said flatly.

Jenny smiled in agreement. "He's wonderful. That boy is capable of doing anything."

To Colin's credit, he managed to keep a straight face. Had Lord Bontriomphe been there, he would have agreed wholeheartedly.

* * *

It was the First of September.

"Harry! Come see this."

Lord London came running into the bedroom and began shaking his brother vigorously.

"Roger, must you?"

"I must. And if you do not get up, I must do it again."

Harry forced himself to sit up. "And what do you want me to see."

"You have to look out the window."

Harry dragged himself out of bed and followed Roger. "Is that the King's Emblem on that coach?"

"A King's Messenger is with Lord Bontriomphe this very minute. I would wager it concerns you."

"And why me?"

Roger's grin faded. "You are Robert's heir. Harry, he is watching you this day. Make him proud." Roger grabbed Harry in a hug. He would not let go until Harry returned it. Then he left the room through the 'not so secret' passage to let his brother dress.

Harry was pulling on his jacket when the housekeeper knocked. "My Lord?"

"Enter."

The door opened. "Lord Bontriomphe requests your presence in his study."

Harry nodded. "Clarice, is it a formal request or casual?"

"Formal, My Lord." She curtsied and closed the door behind her as she left.

Harry went to his trunk and took out his sword, strapping it in place. He put his hat under his arm and went to meet the Messenger.

"My Lord Bontriomphe?" Harry asked as he entered the study.

"Lord Henry, I regret to inform you that you have been removed from the Title List." Lord Bontriomphe was smiling, and Harry could guess the reason. "It seems that the Duke of Cambridge has made his decision on whom to select as his heir."

Harry tried to smile. "It was expected, My Lord. His Grace hinted that he would wait an appropriate length of time."

"The formal declaration will be made at the end of the week, here in London. There is to be a celebration in your honor." He looked at the King's Messenger. "And there is to be a special guest."

* * *

Harry couldn't help himself. He grabbed Remus Lupin and hugged him for all he was worth. Remus hugged him in return, then made him hurry up. The coach was ready to take him to Westminster.

"I wish you could come."

"Harry, I am only the groundskeeper. I would not fit in."

"The Creeveys are there."

"And their son is an officer and a hero. How many lives did he save, even after he was wounded."

"Colin says it was never half as many as they say."

"One is enough in my book. And yours. Now get going or I will carry you and stuff you into the coach."

"Goodbye Uncle Remus, Aunt Charity. I will make you proud of me."

"You did it now," Remus said, as Charity hugged him in turn.

"Now, off with you, My Lord," she said cheerfully. "They will be waiting for you."

Harry smiled and walked to the coach. Despite the war, despite Robert's death, life seemed good. He climbed in the coach, wishing only that Roger could have joined him for the ride. But this was Harry's day. To have the Marquis of London with him would have taken some of the attention away from him. Roger would not have it, even if Harry would.

The coach arrived, and Harry stepped out. The Captain at arms escorted him into the Palace, leaving him at the waiting room where he was passed on to Lord Bontriomphe.

"My Lord, you should have arrived sooner. They will be expecting you shortly and there are two small tasks that must still be done."

"May I ask what that is, Lord Bontriomphe?" One of them, Harry knew, was that he needed to receive the blessing from the Archbishop of London, who was standing and waiting. It was important to be in good grace when you met with the King. For the other task, Lord Bontriomphe turned to Captain Sir Mortimer Sheffield who was standing with his daughter, Harry's close friend, Caroline. As he looked, Caroline stepped up to him.

"My Lord Somerset, as it is my prerogative, I release you from the vow you made to me."

"Vow?"

Lord Bontriomphe nodded and Caroline stepped back to stand with her father. "My Lord," he explained quietly. "A Knight's daughter is not appropriate for a Ducal heir."

Harry nodded and let himself be led before the Archbishop. He was slightly annoyed at the phrase, 'not appropriate'. Caroline may only be one small step above a commoner but she had more intelligence and wit than most of the noble ladies he had met. She also had a good heart, and she had become a close friend.

He dared to cast a glance in her direction as he walked toward the Archbishop. She was talking to her father, but there was a moistness in her eyes. She did not want this either.

Harry stopped in his thoughts. He had mentally added the word 'either' automatically. Without thinking, he stepped away from the Archbishop before the man could say anything.

"Captain Sheffield."

"My Lord Somerset."

"Actually, I am still Lord Henry Somerset. I will not become Lord Somerset until I receive His Majesty's approval. May I ask you a question?"

"As you wish, Lord Henry."

"May I have your daughter's hand in marriage?"

"That would be inappropriate."

"It is this way, Sir Mortimer. It will be inappropriate once I enter that room. At this moment it is inconvenient. However, we have everything that is required. As her father, you may vouch that your daughter enters into this arrangement freely. As legal guardian of the Somerset family, Lord Bontriomphe may do the same for me. And we also have the Archbishop to perform the ceremony."

All three men stared at the brusque young officer. Harry ignored them and turned to the only lady present. "Lady Caroline, will you marry me? I need someone strong to be by my side, and every time I look with my mind's eye, I see you."

"Father?" Lady Caroline's look expressed all of her hope.

"MY LORD," Sir Mortimer said. "You are expected by His Majesty within minutes. And His Majesty must approve of the union. It can not be done."

Harry smiled. "If he refuses to accept the marriage, you have my promise that I will foreswear my inheritance."

The Archbishop chose this moment to begin laughing, causing all heads to turn in his direction. "My Lord Henry Somerset, you are always full of surprises. I was supposed to relay a message to you from His Majesty. Instead, I will relay your message to him." He began to walk toward the ballroom.

"Your Grace," Lord Bontriomphe asked. "What message?"

The Archbishop turned around. His smile was still there. "Why, that he does not wish Lord Henry to become the Duke's heir. His Majesty has other plans for his nephew."

Lord Bontriomphe stared. He dare not ask what other plans. And he was aware that the Duke had made known his intentions. "I assume Cambridge has been informed."

"Only after he made his decision known. And true to form, Lord Henry has provided a most delightful excuse. The common people would have cheered his inheritance. I dare say they will cheer his wedding even more." He turned to Harry, who was still holding Caroline's hand. Both were staring at him. "I give my blessing to your union, My Lord and My Lady."

Sir Mortimer smirked as the Archbishop left. "If you were Army, he would have made you a Duke anyway."

"Is that a yes, Father?" Caroline asked.

Sir Mortimer was not convinced by the smirk on Harry's face. He was convinced by the almost worshipful look on Caroline Sheffield's face. She was amazed that Harry would threaten to give up a Duchy for her, and hopeful that his request would be accepted. It was obvious that she did understand that she would end up as the wife of a mere naval officer. But for ill fortune, that is what would have happened anyway.

Sir Mortimer sighed. "I suppose it is. I still do not like your choice, Dearest, but your mother will never be swayed. I swear she wanted this from the first. At least now we have time to arrange a proper wedding"

"I would like that," Harry said gratefully as he looked at Caroline.

She smiled back. "As would I. Thank you, Father."

Captain Sir Mortimer Sheffield looked at Lord Bontriomphe, who simply shrugged his shoulders.

"If you will excuse me," Bontriomphe said. "The King's Guard is preparing to announce us. It is time."

As the two entered the ball room, the Guard announced loudly, "Lord Henry Somerset and his fiancé, Lady Caroline Sheffield."

Along one wall, Master Sorcerer Sean O'Lochlainn pulled a one pound coin out of a pocket and handed it to Lady Darcy. "At times you are worse than your husband, My Lady."

"Lord Henry has always been a smart boy, but you do need to place everything in front of him. It was my suggestion that Captain Sheffield save himself the trip to London House. After all, the 'friendship' was only a formality."

Master Sean arched an eyebrow. "Milady, you planned this?"

Lord Darcy grinned at his wife. "They are a beautiful couple, my dear."

Harry and Caroline were walking toward the center of the room. The Duke of Cambridge met them, then led them to meet the King.

"Your Majesty," the Duke said carefully. "May I present to you, Lord Henry Somerset." He paused and added, "and Lady Caroline."

The King's approval is needed for certain facets of noble life. He must approve of an heir. In most cases it is a formality. The Lord sends a letter of intent, and the King puts his seal on it. In the rare cases that the heir is not in a direct line, His Majesty will meet the proposed heir, along with any who would argue against it. As this is a rare occurrence, it is not inconvenient.

Another aspect is that of marriage. No lord can marry without the approval of the King. Should His Majesty disapprove, the marriage does not take place. As a rule, this is also a formality.

"We have been told of your intentions. You have my approval, Lord Henry Somerset."

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

"Your fiancé is the daughter of Captain Sir Mortimer Sheffield?"

Harry nodded nervously. It was not an easy task to carry on a conversation with more than a hundred people standing around and listening to your every word. "That is correct, Your Majesty."

His Majesty smiled. "My favorite aunt was named Caroline. May you enjoy a long and fruitful life."

Harry and Caroline bowed deeply and stepped back. As expected, the issue of the inheritance did not come up and would not come up. Harry was and was to remain a Naval Officer.

"I am sorry," Harry whispered, "for not becoming a duke."

"For what?" Caroline whispered back. "I still have you."

It was sheer impulse, but Harry kissed her for saying that. Caroline was smiling when she broke away.

The room was filled with polite applause. As it died down, all faces turned toward a corner of the ballroom. Harry could not help notice that his cousin, Goodman Thomas Dudley, was being escorted from the crowd of guests by two Armsmen. His surprise was noticeable to everyone. He was led in front of His Majesty and had to be forced to remain standing. The Duke gave him an encouraging smile, then turned to address the King.

"Your Majesty, may I present for your approval, my heir, Lord Thomas Wyatt Dudley."

"Lord Dudley," His Majesty said with a sincere smile. "It is our hope and knowledge that you will excel in your duties when the time comes." He bowed politely to the new Lord, who stiffly returned the bow.

Harry couldn't help but smile. He would have loved to have been Duke, but he thought his cousin an excellent choice. As his Majesty stood up, he caught Harry's eye, noting the smile on the boy's face. His own look was one of approval for Harry's reaction to the events. He excused himself and left the room.

Thomas turned around, more correctly was turned around by his uncle the Duke, to face the guests. Harry was the closest and, with Caroline, stepped forward. They both bowed. "My Lord Dudley, may I offer my congratulations."

"My Lord Henry, I should be the one to congratulate you." Thomas knew that this was supposed to be Harry's day, but Harry only smiled, and squeezed Caroline's hand.

"We thank you, My Lord." Harry said, deliberately misunderstanding his cousin. Harry and Caroline bowed again and stepped away so the next couple could greet the new heir.

The Duke of Cambridge came over to the couple, his face beaming. "To think that I had to hurry up and produce another heir." He laughed politely. "And you are an unpredictable young man, Harry." He turned to Caroline. "Did you know? Lord Henry's grandfather had the same problem."

"I did not, Your Grace, but I should have." Caroline paused. "Was that Robert Somerset? He married Caroline Plantagenet?"

The Duke was smiling. "The very one. My brother was impulsive in some respects. They married in '38'." His voice softened. "John was still alive . . . But that is history you already know. May I welcome you to our family, my dear child."

The Duke and the Lady hugged.

"Now the two of you must follow me. You need to have a private conversation."

They left the ballroom and walked to the library where His Majesty was waiting.

"Good afternoon, Nephew."

Harry failed to stop himself from genuflecting, but he did remember to reply, "Uncle."

"I am sorry, Harry, to dash your prospects."

Harry looked at Caroline. "Uncle John, I am satisfied with the turn of events."

"I want you to know that I do have plans for you." His Majesty reached over to grab Caroline's hand, smiling as she blushed at such a personal action. "I have plans for both of you. And do not be embarrassed, Caroline. You are marrying my favorite nephew." He grinned harder when Caroline gasped.

"I apologize, Your Majesty."

"Call me Uncle John. You have earned the right."

Caroline was now blushing furiously. "Yes, Uncle John." She had just call the King and Emperor by his first name.

His Majesty turned back to Harry, but still held Caroline's hand. "Under the circumstances, Harry, I would like to grant you a boon. I will even give you a title is you ask."

Harry was impressed. John IV had told him how much he cared, but to make such an offer was more than enough proof. "Uncle, I would like to ask a favour. But not for myself. There was an Armsman. He died protecting me . . ."

* * *

It was now early December.

The small boy was escorted by the Armsmen. In the not far past, he would have run as quickly as he could, but that was a different time. Then, until recently, he had been a familiar sight at the barracks. He had become almost a mascot. But that was before his brother died.

No one would tell him what happened. Only that he gave his life to save another man. There was a funeral, and then he was escorted to the Mercy Hospice of the Angevin Order. It was the orphanage. But Michael no longer cared.

Now he was walking through some fancy building with four Armsmen on either side. Bill had told him: This was an honour escort. As he walked through the door held open for him, Michael saw the man who was standing there and dropped to the floor, afraid to look up.

"Goodman Michael Potter, you may rise."

Michael looked up in fear. It was the King! And the King knew his name. Carefully, he climbed to his feet and stood there, head bowed. A hand cupped his chin and forced him to raise his head.

"It is rude not to look at someone when they are talking to you." His Majesty took his hand away and looked at the boy, smiling in satisfaction that he kept his head erect.

"Your brother was Armsman William Potter?"

"Y-Yes, Your Majesty."

"He died with honour. He gave his life to save another man. Do you know that man, Lord Henry de Somerset?"

Michael was stunned. "Bill died to save LORD HARRY?"

"We do believe he is called that by common folk. But you should refer to him properly."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"From your look you have a question. What is it?"

"W -Well, Your Ma-Majesty, I am common folk. I should be able to call him Lord Harry."

His Majesty smiled. "Then you have not been informed?"

"Been what?"

"No one has told you?"

Michael wasn't sure what to say. "I guess not. No harm meant, Your Majesty, but I don't know what you're talking about."

"Then I will tell you. For his bravery, William Potter was posthumously made Baronet. Do you know what that means?"

Michael shook his head.

His Majesty put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "One becomes a baronet by showing Proof of Blood. He was made Sir William because he gave his life in such a selfless manner. That title would have been passed on to his children, but he never had the chance to marry. Therefore, Sir Michael, the title passes to you."

"But . . ." Michael leaned in to whisper to the King, who bent his ear. "But I'm not really his brother. He 'dopted me."

His Majesty nodded. "Then you are his brother by adoption, Sir Michael. You are still an hereditary knight of the realm and you must live with it. And that is the problem. We were only told about you recently, otherwise you would never have gone to the Hospice. Take my hand."

Sir Michael did as he was told, and His Majesty led him to another room. "This is the Lord Chamberlain. He will see that you are settled properly and that you are made familiar with the duties and privileges of your rank. As you have no place of residence, We have ordered you to be housed within the grounds of the Tower of London."

His Majesty left the two together. He had not told the boy everything. Sir Michael would have to find out about the Title List on his own.

* * *

It was the First of June.

Hermione Granger was dressed in her plain blue robes of an Apprentice Sorcerer. She was riding to Saint Paul's Cathedral in a coach bearing the arms of O'Connell. She smiled at the young man next to her. He returned the smile.

"Hermione, you know my feelings toward you, but I do not wish to presume that you feel that way about me."

"Owen, why do you always say something by saying something else first?"

"You are changing the subject. I am trying to ask you something."

"And you're doing a poor job of it. All you've said is that you love me and you will understand if I do not love you in return."

"I stated it more elegantly than that." Owen actually looked offended.

"No, you said it more vaguely than that. If I didn't know what you were talking about, I wouldn't have known what you were talking about at all."

"Hermione, you are trying to confuse me."

"It isn't hard to do."

They both laughed.

"I am trying to be Polite," Owen insisted. "I am asking you to be a 'close friend'. It will be helpful to you when we arrive."

"And this is just for today?" Hermione was grinning at his embarrassment.

"It is your choice. It will last as long as you wish." Owen had recovered and was seeking to repay her in kind. It worked.

"Are you asking me to marry you?"

"I am asking you if you would like to have a more elevated position than apprentice sorcerer when you meet the King and Emperor of the Anglo-French Empire."

"Then you aren't asking me to marry you?"

Owen smirked. "Hermione, will you marry me?"

"When."

"Whenever you chose."

"Once I become a journeyman."

Owen paused. "Did you say Yes?"

Hermione smiled and leaned over to kiss him.

"Until then, I have the right to change my mind."

Owen smiled. "There is time and time. At least we have resolved tonight's problem. You now have an appropriate station from which to greet His Majesty."

"Does that mean I can't say, 'Oy, nice hat'?"

Owen tried to say something but kept laughing at the picture that was stuck in his head.

"Owen, thank you," Hermione grabbed hold of his hand. "I needed someone to be there. I had given so much of myself to Robert that when he died . . . You helped me see that life can still be good. I don't know what the future will bring, but . . ."

"I will make no plans. If you decide to honour my offer, I am willing to go though with it."

They smiled in understanding. They were still smiling when the coach stopped and the footman opened the door. Walking hand in hand, they entered the cathedral and were escorted to their place. They were to sit with the Marquis of London. Hermione flashed a quick smile to Harry, who was standing at the altar. She also grinned at the best man. Lord Dudley was no longer a nobody.

Before the wedding began, everyone rose to greet the King In Attendance. His Majesty took his seat, and the music began. Hermione saw the bride begin her walk, and broke her promise to herself. She began to cry.

* * *

The couple were led to the ballroom where several guests were already gathered. They were announced as O'Connell and his Lady, which let everyone know what had happened in the coach.

Owen spent most of his time talking to Dennis Creevey and his father, at Hermione's suggestion, while she escorted Mrs. Creevey and made introductions.

"Are you interested in Dairy farming then?" Owen asked.

Mr. Creevey shrugged, "I'm used to delivering the stuff. I don't think I've ever touched a live cow before I came here."

"Ah, that could be a problem, Goodman Creevey."

"Do you think, O'Connell?"

"I could do it," Dennis said, "but I don't want to."

"You are young enough. What do you want to do? Join the Navy, like your brother?"

"No way. I want to do what you do."

Mister Creevey laughed. "I would like to give that a try, myself."

Owen became defensive. "I have duties. It is not all fun and games. For example, I am obligated to secure my bloodline. And soon, I will have to assume my official duties."

Dennis gave a mock sneer. "And you won't go to any fancy parties."

"Of course I will." Owen returned the sneer with a mock grimace. "I have to go. I have to attend fancy parties almost every night it seems. And I always have to be charming and polite and well mannered, and laugh politely at the most boring jokes you have ever heard."

"Tell me one," Dennis challenged.

Owen smiled. "A wild elephant walks into the common room of an inn and asks the serving wench for a pint of ale. She brings him the ale and thinks, 'it is only an elephant. How smart can it be.' She tells him the cost of the pint is ten pounds. As he pays her, she comments, "We do not have many elephants as customers in here.' And he replies, "At ten pounds for a pint, I am not surprised."

No one laughed. Owen explained, "I was told that story three times in one night, and I laughed every time."

"Wow. You must be good."

"Thank you, Dennis. I am."

Hermione was back and slipped her arm around Owen's arm. "I should warn all of you, our special guest is about to arrive. Mr. Creevey, do you know what to do?"

"I was told. Get down on one knee and stay there until I'm told to rise."

"And Dennis and I do the same thing," Mrs. Creevey added.

"As will everyone else," Owen added, "but I will not, and neither will you, Hermione."

"I wasn't planning on it," Hermione said mischievously.

The Lord Chamberlain entered. "Prepare To Meet His Majesty, The King."

John IV entered the room and everyone fell to their knees, bowing. His Majesty 'failed to notice' one young boy lifting his head up to see what was going on. As was protocol, He approached the young man who was standing. "We are well met, O'Connell."

"Plantagenet, we are well met indeed. Might I present my fiancé . . ."

"Hello, John."

Owen stared in wonder at what he had just heard, but his wonder increased a moment letter.

"You look beautiful, Hermione. Commitment becomes you." John took Hermione's hand and squeezed it. "And thank you for Crookshanks. He simply loves the Tower."

As though nothing had happened, His Majesty said in a loud voice, "You may all rise, and be at your ease in my presence." Then he winked at Owen and walked away to greet the Duke of Cambridge.

"Hermione, did you give your cat to Plantagenet?"

"They like each other," Hermione said, as though she talked to Kings every day and twice on Sundays.

* * *

It was another June. Head Boy Ron Weasley was in the headmaster's office. He would soon be graduating. Albus Dumbledore smiled at him.

"I understand you have asked Susan Bones to change her last name."

Ron blushed, his face matching his hair. "She said yes before I had the chance to finish asking her."

Albus smiled. "I have an early wedding present for you, if you are interested." He opened the drawer in his desk and pulled out a blue stone. "I regret that there is no longer any communication between our world and the Empire. Not since the Traveler Stone was destroyed. Therefore, I am only giving you a colorful rock."

"I know that, Sir, but that rock represents a lot of memories. I know Susan will appreciate it." Ron tried to forget that some of those memories weren't good. For a brief second he saw himself holding baby Harry in his hands. It was the moment he realized he would never see Ginny again. He swallowed hard at the thought, and said. "Thank you, Sir."

* * *

It was almost two years later. Susan Weasley, sixth months pregnant, leaned against her husband as they sat on the couch. Fred and George, the wealthy Entrepreneurs, had come over for dinner. He was showing them the stone.

As Fred handed it back to Ron, he said, "I have this idea, and I know it will sound weird."

"I would expect nothing less from you two," Susan said with a grin. "And what was this idea."

"Well, the way I understand it, the control stones should still work. It's what Professor O'Lochlainn taught us, about the laws of magic. ('You actually paid attention?' Ron and Susan asked.) If two similar objects are attuned to each other, they have a strong attraction that exists so long as the spell is in effect. He says it's what they do to examine a spell when they don't want to break it."

Ron shook his head. "They tested that theory, Fred. Nothing happened."

"Yeah, Ron, but . . . never mind. I said it was stupid."

"No, you said it was weird," George answered. "And now I must insist that you tell us what came after 'but'."

"Well, since the two stones were tied to each other, it might work if you tried to go where the other stone was. You know, go to the other stone rather than to some particular place."

Susan's eyes twinkled with mirth. "It's a strange thought, Fred. And it is worthy of you. But there's one problem with testing your theory. Assuming it would work. Since the control stone will go with you, it will be a one way trip."

"I don't know," George mused. "They say the Traveler Stone always stayed behind."

Ron and Susan looked at each other. Then they looked at Fred and George. The next night, there was a farewell party, just in case. They tried using the stone. It fell to the floor.


	49. Epilogue: Part Two

Epilogue: Part Two

John IV walked the reception room to deal with his next appointment. Mentally he thought, one half hour for this, thankfully it is my last morning appointment. Then an hour to eat, then two hours with the Lord Seneschal to go over petitions. And this is Thursday . . . I should be free by perhaps Eight o'clock tonight.

"Ah, Commander Lord Henry Somerset and Lady Caroline Somerset," He said in greeting. "You may rise. And follow Us."

John IV led them to a private chamber and closed the door. "Nephew, you are extremely annoying. Your entire family is extremely annoying. The only one who was decent was Robert, God rest his soul."

Harry paused as Caroline gasped in surprise.

"Yes, Caroline, my dear niece," His Majesty said. "I am a real human being underneath all of this." He walked up to her and hugged her. "I apologize for ruining your image of the King."

Caroline flustered at the attention. After all of her education and years of learning protocol, she had been hugged by the King as though she was married to a favorite nephew. Then she blushed. That is exactly what she had done.

"Uncle?" Harry said carefully. "I apologize for all the problems I have caused."

"Harry, are you happy with your life?"

"Yes, Uncle." He looked at Caroline. "Very happy."

"And you were warned about how the commoners thought about you."

Harry's answer noted his confusion. "Several times, Uncle."

"Well, nephew, you are officially a legend. You will remove your uniform and submit your formal resignation."

Caroline looked at Harry, hoping that she was right about what this meant. As she looked, John took a rolled parchment from a hidden pocket. It had the Royal Seal attached.

"Harry, Caroline, I want you to know that I am using you. I know that both of you have accepted your current position, and I know that you will not object to my proposal. But you must know that this particular decision was made because it is most convenient to the Empire. It was made years ago, but only now is the time right. It also means that we will probably never see each other again."

Harry nodded. "Uncle, this meeting is more than I had ever hoped for. It is reward enough for such a fate."

John smiled. "You should have been a poet, Harry. That was well said. But you both must attend me. We have made efforts to strengthen our holdings in New England and New France, and our weakest position is what are collectively known as the Carib Islands. Except for Quoba, most of these have been left deserted after the original natives were exterminated. Several are still uninhabited."

Harry seemed surprised to hear about the native population. He was familiar with the Royalty in New England. He had even met the nephew of the Duke of Mechico, and Lord MontClaire had told him of his visits to the Duke of Niagara, under whom he holds his fief. Caroline explained the reason for the extermination in three words: "They were cannibals."

His Majesty continued. "Harry, you know personally how things are in New England and New France. You have spent almost all of your time there by my orders, until I told them to send you to London. Our efforts elsewhere are strong enough, but we need to establish colonies to hold these islands, and we need the means of attracting people to these islands." He handed Harry the parchment. "Lord Somerset, it is by Our Order that you are elevated to the rank of Duke of the Carib Islands. You will choose your place of residence, and use every effort to form a viable community there and elsewhere throughout your fief. As your fief grows, we shall appoint others to help you in your task. You are to take possession of your lands no later than the last day of March. That is our command." He smiled kindly. "You will have help, of course."

"I will do my best," Harry promised.

Caroline squeezed his hand. "We will do our best, Your Majes . . ." John waged his finger. "Uncle," Caroline concluded, blushing furiously.

"This will help you in your task." John handed them a folio which contained a book.

"Fodor's Guide to the Caribbean." Harry had to laugh. Then he paused. "This is a recent edition?"

John looked at the clock on the wall. "That is all the time I have, I fear, unless you would like to join myself and the family for something to eat. Harry, I know Arthur would like to meet you again."

Caroline nodded, and Harry said, "we would love to, Uncle John."

John IV smiled as he opened the door that led to the private apartments of the Royal Family. Harry couldn't help but stare as Crookshanks immediately jumped into His Majesty's arms.

* * *

"Mum," Harry cried. "There's a strange man." The five-year-old boy ran to hug his mother, leaving the door open.

Goodwoman Jenny Planck laid Molly down in her cradle and walked to the door to look outside at the approaching man.

"It's only Daddy," Jenny chided. "You couldn't have forgotten him."

"He's with the strange man." Harry looked up, his brown eyes watching his mother carefully for the sign that everything was all right.

"If he's with Daddy, he must be a friend."

Harry grinned and, in a typical five-year-old manner, ran out the open door to greet the stranger. Jenny grinned as she followed her son, then began to run as she recognized her brother.

"Ron!"

They hugged each other as Henry picked up his son and told him, "It's your Uncle, come from far away to visit his sister. We must make him welcome."

Harry grinned and waited his chance to hug his new found relative.

"How?" Jenny asked when she had the chance.

"The control stones. They're still linked to each other. Once we found out, we had to come see you."

"We?"

"Susan came with me. She decided to wait in town."

"She should have come here with you."

Ron grinned. "She's due next month. She'll wait until I can find a coach."

Jenny hugged her brother for all he was worth.

* * *

Ron stared in wonder at his niece. It was hard for him to believe that his sister already had two children. He was not even going to have his first for another month.

"Jenny, how much does your husband know?"

"Everything," Henry said as he came up behind his wife. "She told me about it years ago, when we first came here."

Jenny nodded. "It was after I thought, you know, we wouldn't see each other again. Should I ask why?"

"Because Harry's coming. I had the choice of waiting for him in London or here in Quoba."

Jenny smiled. Ron had chosen to see her. "It will be nice to see Harry again. Is he Captain of his own ship?"

Ron laughed. "He's not in the Navy anymore. By now he's officially the Duke of the Carib Islands."

Jenny frowned. "There aren't any people in the Carib Islands."

"There will be. It seems that this war is in hand, and people are looking forward to the peace. At least that's what I was told. Thousands of people are flocking to the Islands." Ron paused. "Someone very high up asked me to help Harry."

"Tell him yes," Jenny pleaded. "He can give you a title. Just ask Baron Creevey."

Ron smirked at the idea. Colin's father as a Lord of the Realm. "Not a bad career move for a milkman. Dennis is happy, although he's confused about why he's the heir."

Jenny looked at Henry and they both smiled. They had met Commander Sir Colin Creevey recently when his ship visited Port Adelaide. It was Henry who said it. "The Commander does not want to give up the Sea. What was it he told you, Angel? He has a place where he belongs."

Ron said in mock surprise. "He's a commander? But he's only seventeen."

"Don't remind me," Henry said as his hand rubbed his sleeve and his Lieutenant's stripes. "If this war lasts, he'll make Admiral by the time he's twenty-five."

Ron paused, then smirked. "Then you're going to hate this. They made him a Captain. It seems that a frigate captain was promoted and . . ."

Ron stopped as Henry groaned and Jenny laughed. He was talking about the Adventurer. Newly ranked Commodore Slye had warned them that his replacement had close friends at the top.

* * *

Ron stood outside the small house in the early morning before dawn and looked out over the dark water. It was appropriate that a sailor would build a house by the Sea, but Henry Planck was a smart sailor, and built the house on a hill, well above the tides.

His journey was only a visit to see old friends and family, but here was his family, far from home, in strange surroundings. He could find nothing familiar. Susan, sleeping inside, would stay with Jenny and Henry until things were settled. When that happened, Ron hoped they would all come to join him. Him and Harry. (He and Susan had both agreed not to tell them their secret until then. It would make things easier.)

As the eastern sky began to grow light, he noticed a small figure by his side. It was little Harry. The boy slipped his hand into Ron's and smiled.

"Look, Uncle Ron. Is the Sun coming up?"

Ron laughed as an old memory surfaced of his mother singing to him. "It might be having some trouble. Maybe we should help. Harry, do you know how to call the morning?"

The boy grinned widely, and both began to sing:

_Sing to the soft light that shines in the east._

_Sending its promise to bird and to beast_

_Call out to each soul that can lend an ear._

_Sing of your joy because morning is near_

_Sunlight breaks softly on far lofty peaks_

_Flowers raise petals to light that they seek_

_Voices are raised high, their hearts all astir_

_Singing with joy because morning is near._

_Bright youthful faces wipe sleep from their eyes_

_Looking with wonder as light fills the skies._

_Dreams are forgotten, they cry out in cheer_

_Songs full of joy because morning is here._

By the time they were finished, the sun was already showing its face above the horizon. Ron heard a noise and looked behind. Jenny was standing at the door, smiling, with baby Molly cradled in her arms. Henry walked up behind her, and kissed her neck. She turned her head and they kissed again.

Ron sighed as everything became familiar. The shapes were still wrong but the feelings where right. This was a proper Weasley home after all.

Henry would leave soon to return to his ship. Ron would wait for Lord Harry. They would sail to Kingstown, which would be Harry's seat. He would stay there and raise a family of his own. He knew that he and Susan would build a home exactly like this one. It would be a different shape, and in a different place, perhaps the mountains, but it would be the same in one respect.

It would be filled with love.

* * *

The years rolled by and eleven-year-old Arthur Weasley leaned on the desk where his father was working. Ron removed his glasses and looked at his youngest son. "And?"

"Dad, what is it like? Hogwarts."

"You will find out in a few weeks."

"I know, but . . . Robert did not go, nor John."

"Robert can not go. And John has visited his Uncles Harry too many times. He would rather the sea."

"But should I go?"

Ron frowned and grinned at the same time. "No, you should never go anywhere." Arthur matched his father's grin, and Ron added. "You will go. If you do not want to stay, you will tell your grandfather and he will send you home. Or he may keep you with him. You are his namesake. And stay away from Uncle Fred and Uncle George."

At the reminder of his two uncles who ran a magical joke shop, Arthur's grin became impossibly wide. He would go to Hogwarts if for no other reason than to see his relatives. He hugged his father and turned to leave when there was a knock on the door.

"My Lord St. Thomas," the clerk said. "His Grace has sent a dispatch for your immediate attention." Ronald Weasley, Earl of Saint Thomas Island, took the important message from the clerk

"Thank you, Sir Francis." The clerk nodded and closed the door behind him. Arthur clung to his father as he opened the envelope. "Hmm," Ron mused. "Harry has to return to London. His brother finally decided to marry. He wants to know if you want to join him?"

Lord Arthur Weasley stood there with his mouth open. Lord Harry thought to ask about him. "I would love to."

"Then run and tell your mother, and show her this." Ron gave Arthur the parchment and watched him run off. He would be missed. Ron also knew that he might not return. But wherever Arthur went, he would have family.

* * *

It was late in the day as the seaman stopped his son. "There she is, lad."

"The old woman? Is that her, Da?"

"Aye, Tha's Jenny Planck. She's as common as you an' me, but she knows everyone. She calls Old Duke Harry by his Christian name and hang the titles, and the Lord High Admiral stops by every time he's in town. She knows Sorcerers and Lords the way we know our neighbors. She found her long lost brother one day . . ."

"I know Da. Someone said her house was too small, so she told the King to give him one of the Islands." The boy looked up. "Da, can we talk to her?"

The sailor looked down at his son, barely eight years old and already at sea for a year. "They say things happen to people who talk to her. Do you want to risk your fate?"

The boy hesitated, then walked across the docks where the old woman was sitting. "G'Day Goody Planck."

The woman was startled out of her thoughts. She looked at the boy who had dared to approach her. "Are you a relative?"

"No, Goody Planck. My Da pointed you out and . . ."

"And you wanted to test your luck by saying hello." The old woman smiled when the boy nodded in embarrassment. "Tell me, do I still make miracles happen when people talk to me?"

The boy stared in surprise. This was not how Great People were supposed to talk. "I was hopin' . . . " His voice trailed off into silence.

The woman sighed. She remembered another young boy. "Do you know the name Oliver? I knew a boy by that name, a long time ago."

The boy continued to stare. "We was in London half a year ago. They said the Marquis' son is named Oliver. But he's older than me Da. Is tha' the Oliver you meant?"

The old woman sat up when she was told that. Her next words were spoken in anger. "It was him. That little scamp. He tricked me into writing that letter."

"Who did, milady?" The boy asked.

"The Marquis of London. I'll talk to Harry about it first thing tomorrow. That boy is getting a piece of my mind. No, I'll talk to him now."

The old woman stood up with more energy than anyone would have thought she had. She immediately began to march toward the Ducal Palace two miles away. At a thought, she turned back. "Are you coming, boy?"

"Me?"

"Don't you want to see me yell at Lord Harry?"

Jenny smiled as the boy, and his father, followed her. The thought crossed her mind that she was creating another miracle.

Jenny marveled often about her past. She had come to this world in the lowest of positions. Her first true friend was a whore. That whore had a friend, a broken down old blind man with nothing left to live for. But they turned their lives around. They lived their last years in happiness, and their children prospered. Sarah died knowing that one of her grandchildren had become a knight. Henry, her husband, God rest his soul, had nothing except the sea. He also died with a blessed family. At this moment, three generations of Plancks were on the sea: a commodore; a captain; two lieutenants; and a brand new sub-lieutenant.

Jenny thought of the others. Old Admiral Slye, who, in a long ago war, captured a dreadnaught with his frigate, and the help of a great amount of fog. The Lord High Admiral, whom she still called Colin. And there were still others.

She never thought about that day when she first came to this world. She wished upon a magic stone that she would save Harry's life, and he would be forever grateful, and everyone one around them would be better off. But she did think of Henry Arthur, her son. Conceived during an act made of desperation, he was the focus of her life. She may have saved his father's life but he had saved hers, simply by being there.

"Do you have a name, boy?" Jenny asked as they walked up the steps to the palace.

"I's Cormac, Milady."

Jenny walked up to the guards who immediately opened the main doors for her, and one ran ahead to notify the duke.

The man and his son followed, unable to think of anything else to do. This was the legendary Jenny Planck they were following. They stopped when she did and stared at the famous Lord Harry, Duke of the Carib Islands. The old woman was brief and to the point.

"Harry, I need to go to London to scold your brother."

"I will summon the fleet immediately."

"Thank you."

Both the Duke and the old woman smirked at each other.

"Oh, Harry, this is Cormac. He dared to talk to me and now he wants his miracle."

"I am out of miracles. Could I give him a kitten instead?"

Cormac did not know it but that kitten was his miracle. It made people notice him and when they noticed him they saw what he was capable of.

"He's called Crookshanks," Cormac told his fellow naval trainees three years later. "He's descended in a direct male line from Crookshanks the First, Old King John's cat."

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Books:

Thomas B. Costain. The Pageant of England: The Conquerors. Doubleday and Company, 1949.

Charles Dickens. Oliver Twist. .

Randall Garrett. Too Many Magicians. Doubleday and Company, 1966.

Randall Garrett. Murder and Magic. Ace Books, 1979.

Randall Garrett. Lord Darcy Investigates. Ace Books, 1981.

Dean King. A Sea of Words. Owl Books, 2000.

Angus Konstam. British Napoleonic Ship-of-the-Line. Osprey Publishing, 2001.

John E. Lewis, Editor. (The Mammoth Book of) Life Before the Mast. Constable and Robinson Ltd., 2001.

Samuel Elliot Morrison. The European Discovery of America. Oxford University Press, 1974.

Patrick O'Brian. Master and Commander. W.W. Norton and Company. 1990.

JK Rowling. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. Scholastic Press, 1999.

JK Rowling. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Axkaban. Scholastic Press, 1999.

JK Rowling. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Scholastic Press, 2000.

JK Rowling. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, 2003.

MOVIES, DVD AND VIDEO:

A High Wind in Jamaica. 20th Century Fox. 1966.

Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World. Universal Pictures. 2003.

The Last King. A&E / BBC. 2004.

INTERNET:

The Harry Potter Lexicon. 

British Titles of Nobility. 

The Napoleonic Guide. 

AUTHOR'S COMMENTS

This is the section where I let my ego show. Forgive me in advance for this.

Over two years ago, I had the idea for this story. Some fifteen months ago I began to write it. I wrote six chapters and stopped. It was terrible. The story did not flow.

At first, I had Robert arrive in full health. (See Excerpt One Below.) It was nice for a few paragraphs but then it seemed to falter. I decided he should have an accident. It made his entrance more interesting. In this version, he still remembered everything. I was able to write a few amusing pages but the story began to falter, again. There was no suspense. I had a wonderful 'Harry's twin brother appears' story.

It was then, after writing another six chapters that I understood that I had not thought out the beginning very well. I knew what would happen once Harry entered the Empire. That was the easy part. I had never thought out Robert at Hogwarts.

And so I pondered. I had already revised the story for the third time. I had the cryptic opening. Robert had no memories. But I could not develop his character properly. Then I understood my mistake. Robert is and is not Harry. I kept putting him in Gryffindor. Robert's bravery is not in question, but it is not his chief characteristic. That would be dedication. As Professor Quirrell described Hufflepuff: _patient, just and loyal, unafraid of toil_. As a scion of the Empire, that was a perfect description of Robert de Somerset. Once I understood which house he should be in, I knew the rest of the story. I also understood the division of houses better.

* * *

On a tangent, the four houses can be described as four periods of history. To be more exact, there are periods of history when each house would have be prominent because of how their characteristics present themselves.

Slytherin is obviously the modern day. Its principles embody capitalism at its best and worst. The executives of Enron are the worst. Ted Turner, the media mogul would be the other side of the coin. (To quote Gordon Gecko: "Greed, for lack of a better term, is good.")

Gryffindor is the first half of the last century. The World Wars. Tommy Aikens in his finest hour. The men who fought to make the world better.

Ravenclaws are the sons and daughters of the Industrial Revolution. Thomas Edison stands at the head of the class (in my opinion) with countless others pushing from behind.

And now we come back to Hufflepuff. We take one more step backward and we stand in the Victorian Age. Everything is for Queen and Country. We all have our places and we all need to do our best.

Hufflepuffs fit everywhere, you know. They are the bureaucrats who do the small jobs which must be done. But they are also the organizers to show us what must be done.

America in the 1960's: John F. Kennedy is in Gryffindor, with brother Bobby in Ravenclaw. Lyndon Johnson could have qualified for Slytherin. (Richard Nixon certainly did.) But the archetypical Hufflepuff was Martin Luther King.

I know that last part is lost on most people for the simple fact that we are talking about people from forty years ago, and most of us are not that old But it is a convenient analogy in its own way.

* * *

And now Robert is in Hufflepuff, and the houses almost seem to come together. The students learn that being in a different house can mean something as simple as sleeping in a different room. We are not as different as much as we are the same. At that point, the story began to write itself. I did take the deliberate shortcut of assuming that the reader was familiar with all the HP novels. Otherwise, I would still be writing.

But writing is not always easy. As the story evolved, certain plot lines disappeared as I realized the errors of thinking in my story. Some of these were minor, such as the ban on using magic against another person. Master Sean's defensive spell played a stronger role as a result. But there was one major change in my story.

Originally, the story was to have covered four years instead of three. Robert and Harry would befuddled Voldemort in the cemetery and both escape. But that did not work. If they could do so, they could also keep Voldemort from succeeding in his plans. And I couldn't send Cedric along. It was a mild night, last Autumn, when I understood what had to happen. I had no choice in the matter. Voldemort had to return. Nor would it take another year to find him and stop him. In the end, it took only seven typewritten pages to go from Robert's death to Voldemort's demise. After 200,000 words leading up to that moment, less than 4,000 words brought it to a conclusion.

* * *

Below are sections of the first two versions. I am posting them to give the reader an idea of how the story developed. This chapter would be the "Deleted Scenes" section on a DVD. The first is the original introduction of the second version. The second is the prologue of the first version. I dropped it because, it seemed to me, it came off as David Copperfield meets the Twilight Zone.

* * *

EXCERPT ONE: ORIGINAL INTRO

"Harry," Ron called out.

"Later," Harry called back as he raced through the common room. "I'm late for Quidditch Practice." He ran out the entranceway and down the hall, not looking back.

As he ran past and the portrait closed, a boy of similar age appeared, as though fading in, facing the portrait.

"Password, Please," the portrait said.

The boy looked at the picture with a sense of fear, then looked around himself, seeing only one figure, which was racing away. Instinctively, the boy fled in the other direction, making it a point to keep to the shadows and avoid anyone else. At one point, Professor Snape suddenly appeared in front of him, seemingly from out of nowhere, and the boy began to turn to run.

"Oh, please," Snape said in an annoyed tone. "Don't make us chase you through the entire school."

"School?" the boy said as he turned back to the Professor.

Snape eyed the boy carefully. He was a display of contradictions. He was dirty and barefoot, but his shirt was obviously made of silk with lace around the color and cuffs. What was left of his vest matched his pants which ended at the calf. The dirty fabric appeared to have once been red satin. As he watched, the boy brushed his long hair from his eyes, and pulled at a tangled piece that had caught in the torn lace of the collar.

"Come with me. Intruders get to visit the headmaster," Snape said, trying to be stern and gentle at the same time. "We'll clean you up and give you a meal before we pack you off."

* * *

EXCERPT TWO: FANCY INTRO

It is doubtful that I will be the hero of this tale. That position has been left to another although it is my lot to relate the events that occurred as accurately as I am able. I solemnly swear by the Lord God on high and by His Majesty, and by the Saint Robert of Anjou for whom I have been named that what I relate are true events.

I am Robert de Somerset, Lord Cahill, eldest son and heir of the Marquis of London. On the Eighth of October in the Year of our Lord Nineteen Hundred and Sixty Six, I was victim of an artifact that is known in your world as the Traveler Stone. I was in my thirteenth year when this occurred, and as I write this I fear that I will never see my family again as the power of the stone has become mute in my presence.

My father is also the chief investigator for His Majesty in the city of London and its environs. It was to act against His Majesty and my father that traitors, in the pay of His Polish Majesty Casamir IX, did engineer my kidnaping from my boarding school at Oxford at the same time that they engineered the theft of an artifact from the Department of Experimental Sorcery at Kings College. I was rudely confined with a local priest, Father John Marius, whose only crime was to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. May God have mercy on his soul.

Whilst in their care, I did manage to escape and hide. The did not find me quickly, but they did relax their guard on the trophy they had seized while they searched for me. In eluding their pursuit I found myself trapped in the same room where they had stored the artifact, an experimental control stone which was, through sorcery, attached to the Traveler Stone. As I heard my captors approaching I uncovered the stone from its confines and deliberately took it in my hand. The door opened and I heard the report of a pistol. As my back exploded in pain, I remember wishing strongly to find myself in a place where they had never heard of the Polish Empire. This appears to be one of the abilities of the control stone, to align one's destination with one's preference, and I received my wish.


	50. Appendix One

Chapter 50: Appendix One

A/N: This and the following chapter are the first two chapters of the original version. They are placed here simply for the reader's curiosity. THIS IS NOT REQUIRED READING. There are several commonalities between the two versions but there are two striking differences. In this version, Robert retains his memories, and he is put into Gryffindor.

Plantagenet

"Harry," Colin Creevey called out, his camera clutched in his hands. "Where are you going?

"I have practice," Harry said as he walked through the common room in his Quidditch uniform. Harry's first week back at school had ended badly. Guilderoy Lockhart made it a point to embarrass him at every opportunity. Now it was Colin's turn. The first year was fascinated by Harry and followed him everywhere, taking pictures whenever he could. It was like being followed around by a talking shadow.

Harry made it to the weekend only to be woken up by Oliver Wood, who wanted to practice even before the sun was up. He trudged down the stairs, tired and hungry, to find Colin there looking as bright and cheerful as ever.

"I've heard about Quidditch," Colin said as he followed Harry out of the Gryffindor Tower. "But I don't know how it's played. What are the . . ."

He stepped outside of the Gryffindor common room and stopped dead in his tracks Harry had tripped over a body that was lying in the middle of the corridor. Colin thought it was a girl at first because of the long hair, but quickly realized his mistake. The clothes, although strange, made it clear that it was a boy his or Harry's age.

The boy was a display of contradictions. He was dirty and barefoot, but his shirt was obviously made of silk with lace around the collar and cuffs. What was left of his vest matched his pants which ended at the calf. The dirty fabric appeared to have once been red satin but was now stained a darker red from an obvious wound.

Colin didn't know what to do as he watched Harry looking at the boy. He instinctively raised the camera to his face and took a picture.

"Colin," Harry hissed angrily.

Before either Harry or Colin could react Professor McGonagall and Argus Filch came running around the corner. Professor McGonagall's wand was in her hand. She quickly examined the boy, then cast a spell causing the body to float, and Filch ran with the him as quickly as he could. McGonagall paused briefly and cast another spell to clean the hallway rug. Only then did she look at the two Gryffindors..

"Come with me," McGonagall told Harry and Colin in a voice that demanded obedience.

* * *

Madam Pomfrey examined the wound as she applied the potion. "He'll live, Albus, but it was a near thing. Thank Minerva for her quick reaction."

Dumbledore turned to McGonagall with a look of gratitude then turned back to the boy on the bed. "Do we have any idea who he is?"

"I know exactly who he is," Pomfrey uttered. "He's been in here too many times for me to not recognize him, even with the long hair. Albus, look at his face. Except for not having a scar, the boy is Harry Potter."

Harry was startled at hearing that statement and looked at Colin who was just as surprised. "Did you say that was me. Madam Pomfrey."

"Come take a look, Mr. Potter."

Harry walked carefully around the bed so that he could see the boy's face. "Is that really me?" Harry shook his head in disbelief. "But that isn't possible." Turning to Dumbledore he said, "Professor, is it possible?"

"He IS Harry Potter," Pomfrey insisted. "Every spell I used to examine him tells me that."

"He is here, Harry," Dumbledore said, "therefore it is possible, but we will have to wait for him to recover before we can find out how." He ushered both boys away from the bed and spoke to them privately. "I need to know what you saw."

Colin answered first. "I was walking with Harry to Quidditch practice, but when I came out past the portrait he was lying on the ground, and this boy was next to him."

"Harry?"

"Sir, I stepped out into the hallway and I tripped over him. I never saw him. It was as though he suddenly appeared."

"He did," Dumbledore informed them. "He may have appeared only moments before you fell over him. When something like that occurs the wards around the castle give an alarum, and lets key staff know exactly where the intruder is."

Harry nodded. "That was why Professor McGonagall and Mr. Filch appeared so quickly."

"You are right, Harry. And I must asked you and Colin to keep this a secret until we know precisely what has happened. This boy was deliberately wounded by a muggle weapon only moments before he arrived in the hallway outside the Gryffindor common room. If he is in danger, it is better for him that no one knows he is here. Do you understand?"

Both boys nodded, then Harry asked, "Sir, I missed practice. I have to say something."

Dumbledore smiled. "That is easy enough to explain, Harry. You tripped on your way to practice, and Colin Creevey helped you to the infirmary. You were fortunate he was with you."

"I suppose that is true enough," Harry said. "And I promise not to mention him to anyone. I know no one else was in the hallway, and I didn't see anyone on my way here."

"I didn't see anyone either," Colin offered.

"I know," Harry said, half jokingly. "If you had, you would have taken their picture."

Colin blushed and smiled in his embarrassment, but never let go of his camera.

Now, off with you. And I do promise to let you know what has happened." He added with a grin, "I suspect, Harry, that you are involved, somehow."

Harry laughed. "Let's see. He looks exactly like me. He appeared right in front of me. I think you might be right, Professor."

"I am glad you see the humor, but please do not tell anyone until I have a chance to talk to the boy. That should be the day after tomorrow if I know Madam Pomfrey's work."

"We promise, Professor," Harry said in a serious tone. "I won't even tell Ron or Hermione."

"I won't tell anyone," Colin said, suddenly nervous at the feeling of responsibility.

* * *

"You tripped?" Oliver Wood asked. "How? You can fly rings around anyone. How could you trip?"

"I wasn't on my broom when it happened," Harry said in defense.

"Then fly down to practice from now on," Oliver suggested. "What if this happened before a match?"

"I'm sorry," Harry said. "I'm fine now. It was one of those things."

"I should have thought of that," George said as Oliver stormed off. "You missed the most boring practice I've ever attended."

"You missed most of it too," Fred pointed out. "Harry, he fell asleep in the middle of Wood's lecture on tactics. I know because he was still asleep when I woke up."

"It ended great, in a way," George added. "The Slytherins showed up saying they had to train their new Seeker."

"Slytherin has a new Seeker? Who?" Harry asked.

"The same one you saw in Knockturn Alley."

"Malfoy? How did he get on the team. What happened to Higgs?"

"Higgs father didn't buy the Quidditch team brand new brooms, Nimbus Two Thousand and One's."

"I'm not surprised, but how does that make a great ending."

"It doesn't," George explained, "but that was when Ron and Hermione came up looking for you. That was the great part."

"That's right," Fred added, "Malfoy showed off his new broom and Hermione told him that the Gryffindors didn't have to buy their way onto the team."

"Yeah," George concluded, "She told him that we got there by talent. Malfoy hated that."

"Good for Hermione," Harry cheered. "What happened then?"

"Um," Fred said carefully, "Malfoy called Hermione a name, and Ron pulled out his wand and cursed Malfoy."

Harry caught Fred's tone and asked just as carefully, "And."

"Well, you know about Ron's wand."

"The spell backfired."

"Hermione took Ron to see Hagrid."

"He was coughing up slugs the entire time."

Harry stared at the twins, not sure if it was a joke. "I think I'll go visit Hagrid."

As the twins left to change out of their Quidditch uniforms, Harry turned to the entranceway. As he turned he spotted Colin, sitting in a chair away from everyone else, not looking at anyone. Not many hours ago, Harry was wishing that the same boy would leave him alone. Now he was walking over to him to find out why he was troubled.

"Colin?"

"I won't bother you anymore, Harry. I promise."

"Why the change of heart? I never even explained how Quidditch is played."

"You Know," Colin said, referring to what had happened earlier. I'm sorry I caused you any trouble."

Harry sat in the chair nest to Colin. "Do you actually think that was your fault? You didn't do anything wrong. You were just a witness to what happened."

"It's not that," Colin said in disgust. "I realized that you think I'm a pest, that I annoy you. That boy was lying there and I . . . I . . . I took his picture."

Harry nodded at the thought. Colin was right. He was a pest. He was annoying. But Harry felt bad that Colin felt bad at doing nothing.

"It's more than I did, Colin. All I did was stare. You even heard Madam Pomfrey. If it wasn't for Professor McGonagall . . ."

Colin's face brightened a little. "Then you don't think I'm a pest."

"Of course I do," Harry replied but kept his smile. "You try too hard and it drives people away."

"I'm sorry, Harry. I just thought you would be a perfect friend. I never thought about what you would think."

"Well, I think we both had a bad scare this morning, even though it ended on a good note. We need to take our minds off of it." Harry looked Colin in the eye. "Ron's down in Hagrid's hut coughing up slugs. Would you like to join me."

"I'd love to," Colin said. "Can I . . ."

"Leave the camera," Harry said, and Colin laughed.

* * *

Harry's day ended just as badly as it began. He spent the rest of the morning watching Ron spit out slugs, and he found out what the term 'Mudblood' meant. At noon he finally had a chance to eat, only to find out that he had detention with Lockhart, by special request. He spent his evening helping the pompous jer . . . teacher answer his fan mail.

That was when he heard the voice and the words of menace it spoke. Lockhart claimed that he heard nothing. Later that night when Harry told Ron about the voice he never even thought of the strange boy he had tripped over.

* * *

The boy stirred in his bed and slowly awoke. As he opened his eyes, a fuzzy old man came into view. A hand approached and put a pair of glasses over his eyes, and the fuzzy old man came into focus.

"Does that help?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, thank you," the boy said weakly.

"My timing has always been impeccable," Dumbledore chuckled. "I've only just come by with those glasses in case you needed them when you woke up."

"I don't recognize your robes, Sir. Are you a Healer?"

"That honor belongs to Madam Pomfrey. I am merely the school's headmaster, Albus Dumbledore."

"This isn't my school, then. I would recognize you, Headmaster, if it was."

"That is true enough. This is not your school. May I bother to ask your name?"

"You do not know me, Headmaster? Where was I found?"

Albus smiled a rebuke, "If I knew you, I would not ask your name. And you were found in one of our corridors. I might add that we were quite surprised to find you there."

"I am sorry, Headmaster. I'm a bit confused. Lord Cahill."

Albus shook his head. "I'm sorry but now I am confused. Who is Lord Cahill?"

"I am, Headmaster. Robert de Somerset. I am the Eighteenth Lord Cahill. My father is the Marquis de London."

"I apologize, Lord Cahill. I can see you are still tired, but would you like something to eat before you rest again?"

"Please. I am feeling hungry."

Before the boy could react, a tray appeared, and Albus helped him to a sitting position. The boy drank greedily from the juice, then attacked the eggs and toast. He finished the last piece and sat back with a satisfied look.

"May I ask a question of you, Sir, without giving offense?"

"Anything."

"You said you were the head of the school, and I assume this is the school hospital. Which school is this?"

"This is Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Is that of any help to you?" At the boy's shocked expression, Dumbledore asked, "What is wrong?"

The mildness of the question confused the boy and he asked in turn, "You said Witchcraft, Sir, but your manner contradicts you. Do you truly teach Black Magic?"

Dumbledore smiled at the question. "We call them the Dark Arts, and we only teach how to defend against them. I am not sure where you are from, but we commonly call any woman capable of magic a witch, and any man a wizard."

"I understand now, Sir, and I do apologize. In England we call them Sorcerers."

"Please don't apologize. I fear we will continue to confuse each other, especially because I must now tell you that you are in England and I have rarely heard that term used except in reference to practitioners of the Dark Arts. If I may venture a guess, we are not talking about the same England."

"It worked," the boy uttered in amazement.

"And IT is?"

"I understand the problem now, Headmaster. I will try to explain. I was escaping from my kidnapers when I came across the object they had stolen at that same time. They had bragged to each other about how it, they called it the stone, could take you anywhere you wanted. I was fortunate in that my kidnapers did not realize that I knew Polish. They also talked about how they could use it. I was holding stone when I was shot, and I remember wishing I were as far away from them as possible, somewhere they have never heard of his Slavonic Majesty."

Albus nodded. "There is an artifact called the Traveler Stone. If you touch it, you will exchange places with your counterpart in another existence, a parallel world you might say. It looks like a red jewel, but it glows with an inner light. Is this what you touched?"

"No, Headmaster. The stone I held, and I did hold it before I invoked its power, was similar but it was blue in color. I do know it was stolen from the Royal Thaumaturgical Institute, and that the Sorcerers there do conduct scientific research in magic. I must assume that they had developed a means to control the actions of the stone you speak of. It is only a guess but it does answer the questions to the puzzle of my coming here, to your world."

"You don't seem very surprised by all of this?" Dumbledore mused.

"Perhaps, Sir, it is because I know of the Traveler Stone. My Lord of Cambridge is in charge of its safekeeping, and he is my Godfather."

"A curious world you live in."

"My counterpart will be treated kindly once the King's Agents understand what has happened, Headmaster." The boy paused as a horrible thought struck him. "Unless he appeared in my place, as I seem to have appeared in his."

"Do not worry, Lord Cahill," Albus said firmly. "Your counterpart is still in our world. Apparently, your control stone placed you here with him, rather than instead of him. He literally tripped over you when you arrived here."

"I am thankful for that, Sir. But I fear the kidnapers may try to follow."

Albus smiled again in reassurance. "Since your control stone placed you with your counterpart, I would assume that anyone who follows you must also have a counterpart in this world. Incidentally, My Lord Cahill, neither I nor anyone else in this world has heard of His Slavonic Majesty. I suspect that will make it difficult for his agents to find you."

Neither the old man or the young boy said the thought that occurred to both of them. It also made it extremely unlikely that Robert de Somerset, Lord Cahill, would ever return home. Both saw the understanding of this in each others eyes.

"You should rest," Albus said. "I think we have talked too much. While you are sleeping I'll see what arrangements I can make so that while you are with us you will be as comfortable as possible."

"Thank you. I am feeling tired again." The boy proved it by yawning loudly.

"One more question though," Albus said. "Are you capable of magic?"

"I have some talent, Sir, but it is not enough for me to be trained in the art."

"Thank you, Robert."

"That should be Sir Robert," the boy said softly, and closed his eyes.

* * *

Albus looked up from his desk, as the black haired boy entered his office. "Thank you for coming, Harry. I need to talk to you about the delicate matter that occurred the morning before last."

"Do you know who he is?" Harry asked. "That boy?"

"In a manner of speaking. He told me his name, but it did not make much sense at the time. We only talked briefly, and I have the clear impression that he has led a distinctly different life from either you or any other student here. Also, I have the problem of trying to fit him in."

"You mean he's going to go to school here?"

"Perhaps. Let us start at the beginning. The boy's name is Sir Robert de Somerset."

"Sir Robert?"."

"His father is the Marquis of London."

"Professor, I didn't know there was a Marquis of London."

"There isn't, Harry. And therein lies the problem."

"Is he mad?"

"Not at all. Imagine, Mr. Potter, if things had happened differently. For example, if you ended up in a different house. How would things have changed?"

"I suppose Ron and I wouldn't be such close friends," Harry suggested.

"A very good point."

"But if we didn't become friends, we probably wouldn't have saved Hermione from the troll. That would have been terrible."

"On the other hand," Dumbledore replied, "Miss Granger may never have found herself in danger. But you do understand the point I am trying to make. Something as simple as going to a different house could cause significant changes from what has actually happened, and these differences will become more pronounced as time goes by. This is what happened to Sir Robert."

"I'm sorry, Professor. I don't understand.".

Albus smiled. "Remember the question I asked you as I tell you this. Harry, Sir Robert is you in a different world. Things happened so differently in his world that, instead of being an orphaned boy at a school of magic, he is the son of a prominent nobleman. I had the distinct impression that it was not a recent thing. He mentioned that he was also the Eighteenth Lord Cahill, and I assume the title is hereditary."

"Wait a minute, Professor," Harry said holding his hands to his head. "Do you mean that a world exists where my family is part of the nobility?"

"That is exactly what I mean, Harry. Furthermore, I understood, from the way he talked, that his father is a nobleman of significant influence and power. His England still has an active noble class which runs the government. At least that is my educated guess."

"Is that possible?" Harry paused. "I think I've asked that already."

Dumbledore smiled in response. "Madam Pomfrey examined him exhaustively. Every spell used tells her that, physically, he is Harry Potter. Now I get to tell you the crux of the problem. Sir Robert has no means of returning to his own world, and he is trapped in our world, perhaps permanently. There are people who may come looking for him, but they most likely will not be friendly."

Dumbledore looked at Harry and was satisfied that he understood. "The boy is an orphan now, for all practical purposes and, Harry," Dumbledore emphasized, " in a way, he is related to you."

"Like a brother I never knew I had."

"I was thinking more along the lines of cousin."

"You mean we should tell everyone he's my cousin?" Harry asked, and Albus smiled in reply. "But everyone will ask where he came from."

"Tell them you don't know. Tell them you didn't even know about your cousin until just now when I gave you the news. The Dursleys never told you the truth about magic or about your family. You never knew about your mother's other sister, because she was also a witch."

"But he'll seem strange to everybody," Harry argued. "They'll ask questions I can't answer, and I can't make things up. I know that Fred and George already found out about him, and they know that I went to the infirmary the day he showed up."

"I believe Professor McGonagall told you to come. Madam Pomfrey also hinted about a connection between the boy and yourself, if I remember correctly."

"I understand, Professor. I have a cousin who appears out of nowhere. For some reason we never knew about each other, at least that we were related. I mean, everybody knows about Harry Potter."

"Muggles don't," Albus offered. "He mentioned in his world that he did not have enough Talent to be trained in magic."

A noise was heard outside the door.

"Do come in, Mr. Creevey," Dumbledore called out. "You are late. Did you hear everything from behind the door or should I repeat myself."

"I'm sorry, Sir," Colin said nervously. "I didn't want to interrupt."

Dumbledore looked at Colin who was still standing by the door. "Did you have a question, Mr. Creevey?"

"That last part. Sir. You said that Sir Robert didn't have enough talent. I mean, he's the same as Harry Potter." Colin paused. "How powerful are wizards in his world if Harry Potter isn't good enough?"

Harry felt the need to help Colin relax. "That's Sir Harry, Colin. Remember, I'm a lord."

"Not here, Harry," Dumbledore replied. "Here, you are merely late for Charms."

Dumbledore smiled when Colin snorted at the exchange. "I take it that the two of you will help Sir Robert fit in, and you will keep his true origins a secret."

Harry nodded. "We should tell Hermione about this, Professor. I couldn't lie to her, and this is something she'd be good at. And I would want to tell Ron."

"That is no less than I expected," Dumbledore assured him. "I did not ask them to come with you because they weren't directly involved, and this plan may not work out."

Harry was stunned. "You haven't asked him yet?"

"Harry. He is a stranger, lost in this world, who came here at death's door. When I talk to him, I want the groundwork laid. If he agrees, we will let him try on the Sorting Hat. If he doesn't, then we try something else. When I tell him, I want him to know that he has friends here who are willing to help him."

"You're right, Professor. You had to ask one of us first, anyway. It should be me."

Dumbledore's eyes gleamed as he made his next statement, knowing how they would react. "Why don't the two you mention to a few people, discreetly, that the boy in the infirmary is Harry's cousin, here to recover from a terrible accident. If anyone asks, you'll know more tomorrow afternoon, when you meet me at the infirmary. You will have to miss your Double Potions class, Harry."

"Thank you," came the reply.

"I will inform Professor Snape that you asked for Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger to come with you."

"Sir," Harry said in a serious tone. "I've just had a thought. When I mentioned calling him my long lost brother, you suggested cousin instead. Brothers share things, they do things together, but this boy, Sir Robert, we have the same family but that's all. It would be right to call us cousins."

"That was an astute thought, Harry."

"And you could have us come directly after morning classes as well."

Dumbledore shook his head. "I did think of that, Mr. Potter. And while I know how much you enjoy Professor Snape's class, I have a reason. We must discuss this matter with Sir Robert, and we must make sure that everyone involved is comfortable with what they are going to do. I think this will take more than the two hours between classes. By arranging our meeting for the afternoon we have a minimum of five hours to settle this matter. Most importantly, we will give most of our students their first view of your new cousin during the evening meal while I am there to explain things."

"I'm still grateful, Professor," Harry said.

"I am, too," Colin said. "You didn't have to include me."

"Is that so? Mr. Potter said it was only appropriate since you were there when we found him."

"Really, Harry? You're not just being nice?"

"Colin, at times you are really annoying, but your heart's in the right place. And you do deserve to know what's going on. Please, just don't try so hard."

"I won't, Harry. I promise. Professor, can I bring my camera tomorrow?"

Dumbledore grinned as Harry slowly shook his head. Colin would always be Colin.

* * *

My Lord Robert de Somerset, Lord Cahill, heir to the Marquisate of London, dressed himself in the clothes provided to him, and proceeded to eat a late breakfast. He had been pronounced fully recovered but was ordered not to exert himself for a few days, an order he would normally have ignored.

Sir Robert finished eating shortly before the Headmaster was due to arrive. He was only told that there would be guests as well, but he assumed that one of them would be his counterpart. He examined himself in the mirror and sighed. The clothes were drab and functional but gave no indication of rank. Madam Pomfrey had told him that they were standard wear at the school.

"They're here, Lord Cahill," Madam Pomfrey said, and led him out of the infirmary proper to an office with several chairs set out. Professor Dumbledore was standing, as was proper, but the four other guests, all children his age were sitting. The girl was staring at him with a look of complete surprise.

"It is you, Harry," the girl said.

Robert took his cue from the girl's remark, and decided to make the formal introduction himself. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Sir Henry. I am Robert de Somerset."

The girl laughed at Robert's comment, and the red haired boy grinned widely. Lord Cahill noticed that the boy, Harry, whom he had called Sir Henry, appeared embarrassed.

"I'm not Sir Anything. I'm just Harry."

When Harry made that remark, the other two became quiet as well, and an embarrassed silence came over the room. Lord Cahill understood what had happened. His mind worked quickly, as his father had taught him, and he came to the proper conclusion.

"I should apologize," he said before Dumbledore could say anything. "I made the assumption that your world was different in superficial ways. I should have understood that the differences between our worlds was substantial." He held out his hand. "Just Harry, I am just Robert."

They shook hands and Just Harry said that his full name was Harry Potter. He introduced his friends and Sir Robert bowed politely.

"I have a million questions I would like to ask you" Hermione told him.

"Don't worry," Ron said. "She won't give you time to answer any of them so you won't have to say anything."

Hermione gave Ron a look then turned back and asked, "What do we call you? I mean, you're supposed to be a lord."

"I am. The Eighteenth Lord Cahill, a title I inherited from my mother's father, when he died. If you are a Lady, you would call me Sir Robert, and I would call you Lady Hermione. We would never use only our Christian names unless we were close friends, and then only in private. If you are not titled, you would call me Lord Cahill, and I would call you Goodwoman Hermione. On the rare chance that you should outrank me, you would call me whatever you wanted, and I would grovel at your feet."

As expected, everyone laughed at the last line. "I should add that since you do not have a hereditary system, I suppose I should simply be called Sir Robert."

"There are a few people with titles," Hermione pointed out.

"And England still has a Queen," Ron offered.

"But she doesn't exercise any real power," Robert stated. "In the realm of political power she is more of a figurehead."

"That's true, Sir Robert." Hermione couldn't help smiling as she said the name. "But . . . How did you know that? You didn't even know about the Queen until a moment ago."

Robert looked up at Dumbledore. As with Ron and Hermione, his face wore an expression of interest in what the answer would be. He glanced at Harry, who had remained silent the entire time, and he was simply smiling as though he understood. He also observed that Harry had the look of someone waiting to see what happened. Interestingly, the third boy, Colin, had the look of somebody who was just happy to be there.

"It is a simple matter, Hermione," Robert said, remembering to be informal, "Your Headmaster asked me yesterday how to address me. That told me that he had knowledge of our system of government but it was not current. He also told me that he was the Headmaster of this school which, being a school of magic, is a prestigious institution. He would be aware of current events. Therefore, his knowledge must be historical. Harry's embarrassment when I addressed him confirmed that fact. Ron mentioned there was a Queen, but if she exerted any real power, he would have referred to her as The Queen."

"A wonderful display of logic," Dumbledore said.

"Harry, he's not you from a different world," Ron joked. "He's Hermione."

Robert smiled as the Gryffindors laughed, then turned back to Dumbledore.

"I do have one question, Headmaster. If you do not have a hierarchy system of government, why do you separate the Talented from those without Talent?"

"We have to keep ourselves secret from muggles," Ron blurted out. "Otherwise they would want us to solve all of their problems for them."

"Um, Sir Robert, how did you know that?" Hermione asked.

"The same way that I know you are embarrassed when you say my name, although I will admit that I do not know why. I observed how all of you acted around me. Father is an excellent teacher."

"Your father is also a teacher, Sir Robert?" Dumbledore asked.

"First, Sir, we must resolve the problem of my name. You mentioned that you would try to help me 'fit in', and I assume my title will be a hindrance."

Dumbledore nodded. "You will stand out because of your appearance, but using your title would make you stand out even more, in ways that could prove difficult if we are trying to keep your origins a secret."

Sir Robert turned to Madam Pomfrey. "Madam Healer, will you attest to my oath, as the person of highest standing in this room?"

"Professor Dumbledore would be that person."

Sir Robert smiled. "In my world, a Healer, even one without noble rank would stand above a mere teacher." He looked at Dumbledore and added, "I mean no offense, Headmaster."

Madam Pomfrey grinned at the thought of Albus Dumbledore as a mere teacher. "What do I have to do?"

"It is very simple. I make my oath, and then you say, 'I attest to your oath.' You are therefore the King's witness to the oath, and I am bound by honor to keep it."

"Then I will attest." Madam Pomfrey said, adding a small laugh at the end."

Sir Robert stood straight and said in a clear voice. "I do solemnly forswear all claims of title and nobility for so long a time as I am in this world and will be considered as common as those who stand witness to this oath."

Madam Pomfrey looked directly at Sir Robert. "I will attest to your oath with one addition. Professor Dumbledore may release you from it if he finds there is a good reason to do so."

"Done and done," Robert said.

Tuning to Dumbledore Robert added, "To answer your question, Headmaster, my father taught me the things I would need in order to take his place when the duty came. He is not a teacher per say. Among other duties he is in charge of all criminal investigations for His Majesty in the City of London and it environs. Observation and deduction are two important skills for such a position."

Robert looked at Hermione and told her, "I have to change my answer to you. I believe the custom is to use Christian names as the common form of address. You should call me Robert or, as Harry indicated for himself, Just Robert."

Hermione grinned at what he said and held out her hand. "It's also the custom for friends to shake hand . . . Robert."

"You have spoken little, Harry," Robert retorted after shaking Hermione's hand, and Ron's as well.

"I'm trying to get used to it," Harry replied. "It's not everyday I can watch myself. You're handling this much better than I would have."

"Only because I knew to expect the unusual," Robert answered. "I would have been more out of place if this world were similar to my own. Your world is so different, it is actually easier to understand. There are so few similarities to confuse me."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I think we should discuss the plans we have made, and find out if our guest agrees. And thank you, Robert, for what you did concerning your name. It does make our task easier."

"We, Sir?" Robert asked.

"I discussed this with Harry Potter to be sure he would agree."

"And you didn't tell us," Hermione whispered accusingly at Harry.

Ignoring her remark, Dumbledore continued. "He agreed with me on a plan that would keep your past a secret with the sole condition that Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley be included in the plan as well."

Robert refrained from laughing as he could see Dumbledore's eyes twinkling, while behind him Hermione was blushing fiercely. "I am sure it will work. Headmaster."

"It is simple," Dumbledore assured the boy. "You are Harry's cousin, your mothers were sisters. That is why you were sent here to recover after a terrible accident that left you an orphan. We will be more than happy to admit you as a student. The only requirement is that you can explain why you do not know who Harry is, nor have any great knowledge of magic."

"I have no skill in magic," Robert pointed out.

"You do have sufficient skill, as I will explain later."

Robert nodded. "When I talked with Madam Pomfrey earlier she pointed out that in your world, England and France are two separate countries. I can say, honestly, that I was born in France. My mother died when I was only five, therefore I can claim that I did not have a chance to know her side of the family. And as for magic, my father had some Talent but not enough to require training. I can claim that is why he never bothered to let me be trained."

"Wouldn't it be best to claim that his father had no talent?" Hermione asked.

Dumbledore replied, "then how would we explain Robert's knowledge of our world of magic? Miss Granger, the idea is to keep as much of the truth as possible in what we say."

Hermione nodded and they continued to discuss the matter. Most of the conversation was to give Robert some familiarity with the way the school operated. Colin was happy because he found out that his first impressions, still fresh, were exactly what Robert needed to hear. As a result, he was able to contribute to the discussion instead of being an observer. He even got Robert to agree to let him take his picture.

To Hermione's regret, she was forced to admit that it would be best not to discuss specifics about Robert's world as that could cause problems, should somebody make a verbal slip. She was patient enough to wait a week or two, then she would corner him.

The time passed swiftly and Dumbledore soon told everyone there was an hour until dinner. "Professor McGonagall should be here in a few minutes."

"I'm here now," McGonagall said from the doorway. She walked in carrying the Sorting Hat and the stool that new students sat on. Robert walked over to the stool and sat down.

"Wait," Hermione said, "What if he doesn't get into Gryffindor?"

"What if he's put in Slytherin?" Ron asked

"What if we let the Sorting Hat decide," McGonagall said, and placed the hat on Robert's head. Hermione didn't even have time to cross her fingers before the Hat called out Gryffindor. Even Harry was surprised.

"How. . . How did the Sorting Hat decide so quickly. It took almost forever with me?"

"Only two minutes, Harry," Dumbledore said. "But you forget who we are dealing with. The Sorting Hat decided where to put Robert last year when he sat on that very stool and called himself Harry Potter."

Robert sat grinning. "That would explain it, then. Before the Hat shouted Gryffindor, it said, 'Oh, you again.'"

"You're making that up," Ron accused.

"And this is for Lord Cahill," McGonagall stated as she handed a long box to Albus.

"Robert has set aside his rank while he is with us, Minerva. He is only Robert Somerset." Albus opened the box while everyone watched. He pulled out a wand and handed it to Robert, who stared at it in wonder. "I talked with the wandmaker who sold Harry his wand. This is the closest he had. It has a phoenix feather, as Harry's does, although from a different bird. It is the same wood, but a half inch shorter. If it doesn't work for you, we'll take you to his shop in London to find one that will."

"I feel it, Professor, but I cannot describe it."

"Try waving it."

Robert did as he was told and was surprised to see a stream of gold and scarlet stars come from the tip. "I am a wizard," he uttered in surprise. "But how?"

"It would take too long to explain," Albus said. "We would all miss our supper. But I promise that we will have that conversation at some point." He looked at everyone in the room. "We have Forty-five minutes until we are all expected in the Great Hall. I will meet you there with Robert."

* * *

Harry, Ron and Hermione ran to the dorms to change and made it to the Great Hall with a few minutes to spare. Colin was already sitting with the first years, eagerly telling them about how he met the cousin of his good friend, Harry.

"I don't see Robert," Harry said as he looked around.

"Well," Ron said. "Let's sit down and start telling everyone about him."

"I should do the telling," Hermione told them. "I'll have everyone thinking he's another Gilderoy Lockhart."

"Hermione, we want everyone to like him, not lynch him."

"Trust me, Ron. I'll handle the girls, then you can talk him into trying out for Quidditch.

Ron's eyes lit up. "That's right. If Harry's a natural on a broom, so is Robert. We'll win the Quidditch Cup for sure." He failed to notice Harry and Hermione rolling their eyes.

They sat down near the other second years and the questions began immediately.

"Where were you, Harry?" Neville asked. "You missed Potions."

"I was talking with my cousin, the one Dumbledore told me about yesterday," Harry said with a grin. "Dumbledore gave me the afternoon free, and he let me bring Ron and Hermione."

"You are lucky," Neville said. "What's he like?"

"Well, he's my age, and he looks like me a little."

"You're telling it wrong," Hermione said, and looked at the few students who were listening. "First of all, He looks a lot like Harry, with wonderful long hair. He's also French, at least he was born there. And he's very smart, but he knows almost nothing about magic."

"Does he have an accent," Lavender Brown asked.

"Not a French one, but it's not an English accent either," Hermione told her. "It's like he's mixing the two. I loved listening to him talk."

"What's his family like?" Ginny Weasley asked, and Hermione's face dropped.

"That's why he's here," Harry said. "I'm the only relative he has left who can do magic."

"Sorry," Ginny said sadly.

"It's not your fault," Harry said, trying to smile. "He's here to start a new life, and I'm more than happy to help him."

"Harry," Seamus called out, "How does he like being related to you."

"He thinks I'm nice. The truth is he never knew about me, either. His mother died when he was young, and his father didn't think there was much of a future in magic. He never let Robert come to school here."

"Robert?" Lavender asked.

"Robert Somerset," Hermione said. "Isn't that a wonderful name. Wait until you meet him."

"He's coming here? To the Great Hall?" Pavarti Patil said in awe. "When?"

"That must be him," Lavender called out, and pointed to the entranceway, where Albus Dumbledore was escorting the new student.

As everyone looked at Robert Somerset, Ron looked at Hermione and mouthed, "You were brilliant."

"He's wearing Gryffindor robes," Ginny said in surprise. "He's going to school here?"

Dumbledore stopped directly behind Harry, and called out in his Sonorus voice for everyone's attention. "I have a short message before we begin tonight's meal. It is my pleasure to announce a rare occurrence. We have a student joining us after the beginning of term, who is not in his first year. I will not explain the reason for this, because they are personal, and I ask you not to press the issue with our newest student." Everyone could see the Headmaster reassure the boy, and knew it was not a happy reason.

"I should like introduce all of you to Robert Somerset, who has been sorted into Gryffindor. This is fortuitous because he also has a cousin who is in that house, as some of you already know. I also see some of you staring at the resemblance, so I will ask Mr. Somerset's cousin to stand up as well, so that you can see them side by side. Mr. Potter?"

Harry stood up next to his cousin and smiled as everyone gasped. He started to laugh when he heard Malfoy's exclamation from across the room. "By the gods, there's two of him."

"Who was that," Robert asked when he saw how Harry reacted.

"Draco Malfoy," Harry said, trying to control his laughter.

"What type of person is he?"

"Don't worry. You'll hate him. I guarantee it."

A flash went off as Colin took their picture.

Albus Dumbledore ushered the two boys to their seats, then walked to his place at the teachers table. He made some general comments then announced the meal. His eyes were on Robert, whose own eyes lit up in surprise and delight when the food appeared. Albus also noticed that every girl within distance was trying to talk to the boy.

"That is Miss Granger's doing," Albus commented to Minerva McGonagall. "They are more than eager to accept him."

"So that is what Miss Granger meant when she said told me she was going to 'work the crowd.' I'm sure that Mr. Weasley has his part."

"I'm sure Mr. Weasley will suggest that Robert join the Quidditch team regardless of any plan to help him adjust. I think he hopes that Harry's cousin is as good on a broom as Harry is."

"We can always use a good chaser," McGonagall said, and Albus chuckled

* * *

Seamus Finnigan was the first to notice it since he was the first to return to Gryffindor. He was waiting with a wide grin on his face when Harry walked in with Robert.

"Harry, you won't believe this. I know where your cousin is going to sleep. Follow me."

Seamus led the way to the dorm room and opened the door. Harry walked in behind him and stared. Instead of the five beds in a room just big enough to fit them, there were six beds in a room just big enough to fit them. There was a bed next to Harry's, on the opposite side from Ron's, with the trunk open. Ron pushed his way in past the crowd that had gathered and his eyes bulged. Robert was the only one who was not surprised. He admitted later that it was because he did not know anything had happened. "I thought all of you were amazed at how they managed to fit the extra bed. I never dreamed they could actually make the room bigger."


	51. Appendix Two

Chapter 51: Appendix Two

Wednesday

"This is a broom," Harry explained as he removed it from under his bed.

"I think the bunched straw makes that obvious," Robert remarked.

"This is a Nimbus 2000. It's one of the fastest brooms around."

"And how does this broom relate to the game of Quidditch?"

"This is the broom I fly when I play."

Robert stopped short. "You fly?"

"Yes. Fly."

"In the air?"

"Now you're getting it," Harry said with a smirk. "I fly this broom in the air when I play Quidditch. Would you like to give it a try?"

"YES!" Robert shouted, astounded at the thought.

"Then come on. I have to get to practice and we're having tryouts today. I'll explain the rules on the way there, and then you can watch how we play."

"When will I get a chance to try the broom," Robert asked eagerly.

"Tell them you want to try out for the team," Ron suggested. "Then Harry can show you the basics."

"But I've never flown. How can I try out if I don't know how to fly?"

Harry laughed. "That's only the excuse. If you're trying out for the team, you have to use a broom. We're trying to get you on the broom. When you learn how to fly, then we'll try to get you on the team."

* * *

"It's crowded," Robert said as he looked at the students in the stands, then returned Pavarti's wave when he saw her.

"Quidditch is popular," Ron said. "I'll be in the stands, watching. Good luck."

As Ron left the two cousins on the pitch, Robert had to ask, "Harry, what is going on. Am I that popular?"

"Yes and no," Harry replied. "I told you I was the Gryffindor Seeker, but I never told you how I won that position. At my first lesson, another student stole a Remembrall from Neville and flew off with it. I chased after him even though I had never been on a broom before. He threw the Remembrall away and I caught it after a fifty foot dive. McGonagall saw me and I was put on the team. I'm a natural flier, Robert, and everyone is hoping that, since you look like me, you should be able to fly as well as I can."

"Thank you, Harry. Now I have enough confidence to do anything except fly."

They both laughed as Oliver Wood came up.

"I hear your trying out for the team," Oliver said to Robert. "You'll have a tough time getting on the team proper but we always need good backup. Have you played before?"

Harry and Robert laughed. "I've never flown before."

Oliver laughed with them. "At least I know my position is safe. Have some fun, and listen to Harry. He's a natural on the broom." With that, Oliver mounted his own broom and flew out over the pitch.

Robert's eyes followed enviously. "Harry, what do I do?"

"It's a simple matter of steering," Harry said and he explained how to make the broom go up and down, left and right, faster and slower."

"That does seem simple enough. Almost like sailing but with two extra directions." Robert smirked and added, "one extra direction if you are a poor sailor."

"Try it?" Harry suggested. "I've never tried sailing a boat. I don't know how good an analogy it is."

"Is that true? Because my father says that I am a natural as far as manning the sails. When I sail, Harry, I can feel the wind. I know it the way I know myself."

"Robert," Harry said with a widening grin, "I get the same feeling when I'm on a broom. Give it a go."

* * *

"What are they waiting for?" Ron asked.

Hermione huffed. "I may be wrong, but I think Harry is explaining to Robert how a broom works. We neglected to ask him if he knew about flying."

"He'll be great, " Ron insisted. "Harry should let him get on the broom."

Pavarti Patel came over and asked, "Is anything wrong. Robert hasn't started flying, yet."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Robert's never flown before. Harry's explaining how a broom works."

Lavender came over to where they were sitting. "That Robert is so cute. I helped him comb out his hair this morning. He blushed as he asked me and I almost died."

Pavarti laughed. "I love the way he talks. And those glasses make him look smart and . . ."

"They're the same glasses that Harry wears," Ron yelled. "He looks like Harry with long hair."

Lavender and Pavarti looked at Ron like he was an idiot, and Hermione was laughing into her hand. "You don't know anything," Lavender said. "They look like brothers but Robert is just a little bit taller, and his face is thinner. You should learn to look."

"Look," Hermione shouted and pointed to the Quidditch Pitch. Robert had mounted his broom and was flying upward. As everyone watched and cheered, he looped the field twice, did a barrel roll, reversed his direction in mid air, dived to the ground, pulled up at the last minute and drove his broom right into the stands just below where Hermione was sitting. Needless to say, the cheering stopped to be replaced by Ron muttering, "That must have hurt."

"Do you really think so?" Hermione asked sarcastically. She then looked down and said, "Robert?"

A thin voice answered, "Ron was right."

"I knew it," Madam Pomfrey said as she came running up. She waved her wand as the Gryffindors asked if he was hurt. She replied, "considering how fast he stopped I wouldn't be surprised. And considering who his relatives are, I'm not surprised."

"Thank you for being here," Hermione said.

"It's my job," Madam Pomfrey said. "I've never had less than three accidents when they hold tryouts. Everyone is trying to prove they're better than they are. He has a few bruises, and a severe loss of dignity." She turned the boy over and force some liquid down his throat. As Robert sputtered, she stood up and walked out into the field where a Second Year Hufflepuff had finished demonstrating how not to do the Wronski Feint.

"Robert?" Hermione asked again.

"That was great," Robert said with a smile and a grimace. "Did I damage the broom?"

"I checked first thing," Ron assured him. "Nothing a good polishing won't fix."

"Well, I'd better fly it back to Harry," Robert said, muffling a few grunting noises. He mounted the broom and flew, rather carefully Hermione noted, back to Harry and dismounted.

"He should try out for the team," Ron said. "He's a natural like Harry. He's guaranteed to make it."

Hermione was the only one who disagreed.

As Robert dismounted, Oliver Wood flew by. "You were good," he nodded approvingly. "Almost as good as Harry on his first flight. He landed on his feet, though."

Harry laughed and added, "I didn't have half the girls in Gryffindor to show off for."

"I wasn't showing off to all the girls," Robert said. "I wanted to show Hermione I could handle myself and I . . . was overconfident. It was a stupid mistake."

Oliver didn't laugh at that. "I told you before that our team is set, and that we always need good backup." He looked at Harry and added, "for example, our seeker could trip just before the game and sprain his ankle. If you want to try again, we'll see how you handle yourself with the quaffle."

Robert's smile was answer enough.

* * *

Sunday

It was early when Robert awoke. He carefully walked over to Harry and shook him until he was awake as well.

"What is it?" Harry asked groggily.

"It's almost time for matins," Robert explained.

"Matins? There's no such thing," Harry said and he rolled over pulling the blanket over his head.

Robert stared in disbelief and wondered what to do. Suddenly, Seamus was next to him. He whispered that Robert should get dressed. They both dressed quickly and quietly, saying nothing until they had reached the common room.

"You're Catholic?" Seamus asked.

"I suppose I am," Robert said in surprise.

"You don't know?" There was a hint of amusement in Seamus' voice.

"Dumbledore asked me, but I had never heard the word in English before. I told him no."

"That's right. Hermione said you grew up in France." He laughed lightly. "I'm glad I was there to hear you talk to Harry. That's the earliest he's ever been awake on a Sunday."

"It was my fault," Robert said. "I should have remembered that things would be different here." He looked embarrassed by what he said.

"Not really. In France, everyone's Catholic so of course you wouldn't think about it."

"Where do we go?"

"I'm waiting for Angela, she's a fifth year. We usually walk to chapel together. She'll be happy to see you."

"See who?" Angela said as she came down the stairs. "Robert?"

Seamus grinned. "He'll be coming with us. He even tried to drag Harry along."

"This early?" Angela laughed. "You couldn't drag Harry Potter to a Quidditch game this time of the morning."

"Ron could," Robert answered with a grin. "I think Ron would carry him."

As they left the common room, Angela put her hand on Robert's shoulder. "Congratulations on making the team."

"I'm only the backup," Robert admitted. "I'll probably never play in a game."

"You never know." Angela said, smiling warmly.

* * *

The chapel was a small building built into the side of the school and hidden by a small grove of trees, not to hide it from the outside world but to hold the outside world at bay. Robert entered and saw the priest, Father Maurice. The old man was hearing confession from one of only four other students there. The girl stood up and went to sit down on one of the benches and Angela walked up and knelt in her place.

When Angela had finished, Seamus motioned that Robert could go next. Robert knelt before the priest and blessed himself. "In Nominus Patres Vobiscum et cum Spiritu Sancti."

"Latin?" Father Maurice asked.

Robert started in confusion.

"It is custom to use English in this country," the priest said softly in his own well practiced English. "Where are you from that you use the old language?"

"From far away, Father Confessor," the boy said. "I did not know."

Father Maurice nodded. "Tell me your confession, then."

"Father Confessor, I must tell you honestly that I do not know if I am of your religion."

Father Maurice looked at the boy who was clearly becoming unraveled. His calm exterior was almost gone. "His Holiness the Pope tells us that all religions are one under God's eyes, and we should learn to understand each other's belief. Inwardly, all good people believe the same thing. Let this be your religion for the next hour and we will talk after the mass. I am sure God will forgive you if you have walked into the wrong church by mistake." He sighed as he saw the boy calm down, and motioned for him to take a seat.

Seamus gave Robert a concerned look then knelt before the priest who sighed again. "Why do you even bother, Seamus. The idea of making a confession is to help you improve yourself. It doesn't help if you keep committing the same sins week after week."

Seamus' grin grew wider. "I'm sorry. I'll try to think of some new sins for next week." When Father Maurice rolled his eyes, Seamus added, "You should be thankful, Father, that the Weasleys are Protestants."

* * *

"We are alone," Father Maurice said. "What do you need to tell me?"

"I am a stranger in a strange land, Father."

"Suffer the children to come unto me."

Robert's fearful looked eased at those words. "The Latin verse is above the entranceway to our family chapel. It was dedicated to Saint Robert of Anjou, for whom I was named."

"What was Robert of Anjou like?"

Robert frowned. "He is the patron saint of lost children. But you've never heard of him, Father. He never was, in your world." Robert hung his head and prayed, "Saint Robert give me aid, for I am truly your child now."

Father Maurice hesitated to react. He had been told as a matter of course about the cousin of Harry Potter, and he was surprised at Robert's appearance in the chapel. "How did you come here, to our world?"

"Our Sorcerers developed a form of Traveler Stone which placed me here with Harry Potter. I chanced upon it in dire circumstance and dared to use it."

"I understand now why you are troubled, my dear Robert. Too many things are different for you. I also understand, by the fact that we were told you were a relative, that this is to be a secret. I will keep this secret."

"How is it, Father, that you understand about my coming from another world."

"That is easy enough to answer. In my youth I met a man who also came in contact with the Traveler Stone. For some reason he never returned to his world. He told me that the most significant difference was that in his old world Prince Albert lived to a ripe old age."

"Who was Prince Albert?"

Father Maurice smiled at the comment. "You have not heard of him? He was the consort of Queen Victoria. From your look you have never heard of her either. Have you heard of Oliver Cromwell? Henry VIII?"

Robert's face brightened. "He was my mother's grandfather."

Father Maurice laughed lightly. "Either you are older than you look or you are very bad at history."

Robert took mock offense. "I excelled in history."

"Then I understand your confusion. Your world never knew of the Protestant Reformation. I assume that everyone is a member of the same church."

"There are Jews, of course, and heretics who practice Black Magic, and the Turkics and Moors who follow Mohamet, and there are also the eastern religions."

"But am I correct that almost everyone in Europe follows the Church in Rome."

"Rome?"

"Let me guess,"Father Maurice said. "In your world, the Pope resides in Avignon."

Robert was surprised. "How did you know?"

"I am also a student of history, and I was muggle born. I learned the history of both muggles and wizards. If you like I will bring you a history of Europe when I come next Sunday, so that you may learn how our world was shaped differently."

"I would like that, Father. I would often discuss history with Father Peter between classes. I enjoy knowing what happened but I also like to know why."

"Would you like to give me your confession, now?"

Robert knelt before the priest. "I have caused the death of a good man, Father."

"And how did this happen."

Robert nodded. "I was kidnaped, Father, to be used as a hostage. I managed to escape by the aid of Father Peter who was taken at the same time. He was gravely wounded in the effort, and I know he was given no aid. His only crime was that he tried to protect me when I was taken. I was holding the stone I told you about when I was shot as well, but I received aid when I arrived here, and I still live." Robert shed a tear. "If I did not try to escape then Father Peter would still be alive as well."

"You told me that Father Peter aided you. That means that he approved. It also means that he knew that if you did nothing you would die as well. Such people as those who took you would have no use for you after their villainy was done. Cry for Father Peter because he is dead but cherish his memory. You are alive because of what he did."

* * *

Father Maurice walked with Robert back to the entrance of the school and found Albus Dumbledore waiting for him.

"Father, I must talk with you about what Robert Somerset may have told you in the chapel."

"Professor, anything that the boy said to me is under the seal of the confessional. We have nothing to talk about."

Both men smiled at each other in understanding.

"Then perhaps I should take Robert inside and make sure he eats breakfast."

"That would be wise, Professor," Father Maurice replied. He bade Robert goodbye, and activated the portkey that returned him to Beauxbatons School in France.

* * *

"Did you find your Matins?" Harry asked when Robert sat down for breakfast.

"I did, no thanks to you," Robert replied. "I see you finally decided to get up. I was told you normally sleep through on Sundays."

Harry laughed. "I do get up to eat."

"Then I'll join you."

"What are matins?" Ron asked. "And where do you find them?"

Robert laughed at the question and was surprised when Hermione laughed as well.

"Ron," Hermione said, "matins is an old Latin term. It means Six in the morning."

"Cor," Ron replied. "Robert, do you always get up that early?"

"I have been known to sleep as late as Half Past, I will have you know," Robert said haughtily, provoking another round of laughter.

* * *

Robert was talking with Lavender Brown about the Potions homework she wanted him to help her with. He was trying to explain that Hermione Granger would be tutoring him. An argument caught his attention, and he looked up to where Colin Creevey had been bothering Harry to autograph a picture.

Robert was amazed that Harry treated Colin as a close friend because they were such a contrast. Colin was forever talking about anything when he wasn't taking a picture of it. Harry seemed more at ease and willing to take whatever may come. (When he had asked Harry about the unusual friendship, he was told it was his fault and that Colin had the pictures to prove it.)

As he watched another boy approach, Lavender said, "that's Draco Malfoy. When he's around it always means trouble."

Malfoy had heard Colin's request and was making fun of Harry, but one of the teachers, the pompous Lockhart, came up and took charge of the situation. Robert didn't hear what was said but Lockhart tried to force Harry to pose with him for a picture. Colin quickly took the picture then turned away. From the way he looked, one would assume he didn't want to take that picture. Robert excused himself.

"Colin, What happened?"

"I just wanted Harry to sign a picture for me, to send home. I always get things wrong. Tell Harry I'm sorry."

Robert made it a point to walk with Colin. "You looked ashamed after you took that last picture." Colin didn't answer and Robert decided to try a misdirected question. "Did Harry say something to you?"

"It wasn't Harry. It was Lockhart. He made me feel like a baby for having a camera. I only took that picture to make him stop. Now he wants to sign it."

"Don't develop the picture."

Colin stopped in his tracts. "What do you mean?"

"It's simple." Robert explained, "Lockhart thrives on attention. You had a camera and he had to have his picture taken. If he ever asks, you forgot about all it. He will not show it, but it will be the best insult you can give him. And if I know my popinjays, he will ignore you from then on."

Colin immediately transformed into his boisterous self. "Thanks, Robert. That's a great idea. I know Harry will like it. He hated having his picture taken. Will you tell him what I'm doing, and that it was your idea of course. I wouldn't want to take any credit away from you. That wouldn't be right. And Robert?"

"Yes?" he said as Colin paused for breath.

"Could you ask Harry if he could sign this picture for me, not for me, for my brother, so he'll believe me, that I know Harry Potter, that I'm not making it up."

"Colin, you know how Harry feels about this. I think he would disown me as his cousin if I asked him."

Colin nodded and walked on to his next class and Robert turned back to where Lavender was waiting. He knew he would have had an easier time talking Harry in signing a photograph then he would trying to explain to Lavender, without hurting her feelings, that he didn't want to study with her.

Three days later, Colin came running up to Robert while he was sitting with Harry and shouted happily, "Lockhart talked to me today." Then he ran out of the common room.

"What was that all about?" Harry asked as he looked up from his Transfiguration homework.

"He's your friend," Robert replied as he shrugged his shoulders.

"It's still your fault."

"Explain that to me, and I'll explain what Colin said."

"It's a deal," Harry said, grinning, and turned back to his homework.

It took Robert a full minute to understand that Harry wasn't going to explain anything to him.

* * *

Life fell into a routine for Robert. Two nights a week he would join Harry for Quidditch Practice. Three nights a week, he would spend a couple of hours after dinner with Hermione. She loved tutoring him, and he needed to catch up with the rest of his class. Colin, always eager to be a part of anything, would join them sometimes at first, but would often make excuses later on. Hermione also loved teasing Harry about what a fast learner his cousin was, always adding that it was because he applied himself.

It was mid-October when Hermione finally got her wish. She announced to Robert that he had succeeded in learning at least half of the first-year spells. He graciously thanked her, happy to have an end in sight so that his evenings could be free. They sat in the empty classroom, talking about this or that, when Hermione asked her question.

"Robert, when you first arrived, you mentioned that in our world England and France are two separate countries. I was curious . . ." She was cut off by Robert's laughter.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to ask, Hermione. "And I would love to tell you. In my world, the Anglo-French Empire is ruled by Our Most Serene Majesty, John IV. . ."


End file.
